Alternate Vessels
by Alatar Maia
Summary: One shots and drabbles in the Accidental Vessel 'verse that were either rewritten, never made it into the actual story, or are just imaginings of what I could have done differently.
1. Chapter 1

**So I got a couple of ideas, mainly because I was reading over some chapters in The Accidental Vessel and I feel like there was a lot I didn't properly get across? Or maybe just a couple holes in the plot. Anyway, I don't want to keep going back and editing/changing stuff on you guys, which means you get this instead. Basically, since Gabriel narrates The Accidental Vessel, this is what he** ** _wasn't_** **there for - stuff that happened that he didn't notice or couldn't have known. I figure it might help with some parts of the story.  
**

 **Of course, there will also be original scenes, stuff I wrote that never ended up in the story, and 'how-it-could-have-gones' for those of you who like that stuff. This chapter is one of those.**

 **It's actually the original scene where Michael recovers nir Grace. As in, the _very_ first version I wrote of it in like October 2014 or something. I think it was in the middle of a Driver's Ed class. It was a while ago and not that great. I'll be posting it verbatim since I can't copy the notebook I wrote it in to the computer - the only changes will be to fix pronouns. It's pretty obvious what stayed the same and what I ultimately changed.  
**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter**

* * *

The white light died down. Gabriel lowered the arm he'd thrown up to block his vision and saw Michael still standing, frozen, with one hand against the ridiculously tall tree.

Michael spun around, except ne wasn't really Michael Corner anymore.

"Gabriel!" Gabriel told himself he was imagining the note of relief.

"Michael."

They were standing about ten feet apart, Gabriel having been pushed back slightly from the tree. Michael took a step forward.

"I thought you were dead."

"Strange, I could have said the same for you." Gabriel kept his voice even.

Michael frowned. "Gabriel-"

"So what was this?" Gabriel interrupted. "A plan? Trying to get me on your side while disguised as a human so that when you got your Grace back I'd help you restart your little slap-fight-"

"I didn't even know you were _alive."_ Michael cut him off angrily. "Do you really have so low an opinion of me that you think I planned this?"

"Well, what else am I supposed to think?" Gabriel scoffed. " _You?_ As a _human?_ Something made you really desperate."

"This was not an attempt to force you to take sides!" Michael took another step forward and Gabriel found him[self?] taking one back internally cursing himself for showing how nervous he was.

They stood there for several moments before Michael straightened, having frozen mid-step when Gabriel went backwards.

"Let's go somewhere else," Was all ne said. "I don't want to accidentally destroy anything."

Which meant that they both could tell that this conversation wasn't going to end well.

Gabriel nodded curtly and spread his wings, landing near a planet illuminated by two suns. Michael followed quickly, white wings temporarily filling the space in before ne tucked them away.

"So how'd you end up as human?" Gabriel asked. "Matter of fact, you might as well tell me what the Winchesters did, since I was a bit out of the loop."

Michael scowled. "Dean Winchester," Ne said. "He used the Horsemen's rings to lock Lucifer back in the Cage."

Gabriel laughed. "Ha! So they did take my advice."

" _Your_ advice?"

"Michael, come on." Gabriel smirked, nervousness still running in a current in him because Michael was still his older sibling, and here Gabriel was, _taunting_ nem. "You thought you could throw an Apocalypse without me to to kick it off?"

Michael didn't seem to have an immediate answer for that. It was several moments before ne spoke. "And did they follow your advice with me as well?"

"With you?" Gabriel frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Sam Winchester had taken control from and suppressed Lucifer," Michael explained heavily. Gabriel's eyebrows shot up. Sam had said yes? Not only that, but he'd managed to wrest control from an archangel? "I attempted to stop him from jumping into the Cage, and he-" Michael took a breath. "He pulled me in with him."

Oh.

"Sam wouldn't do that to Dean."

Something flickered in Michael's eyes - disappointment, maybe, that Gabriel hadn't immediately asked how ne was? "Dean Winchester didn't say yes."

What? "Then who was your vessel?"

"There was a third Winchester - Adam, their half-brother."

"Ah. A loophole." Gabriel shook his head. "Sorry. That wasn't my idea."

"I can hardly believe that using the Horseman's rings _was."_

"Speaking of that-" Gabriel swung his hands behind his back, energy seeking an outlet. "If you got dragged downstairs too, how'd you get out?"

Michael actually grinned slightly, the corners of nir mouth lifting. "Divine intervention."

"You're joking." Gabriel could feel the fake grin slid off his face.

"I'm not."

"Okay-" Gabriel held up his hands. "You expect me to believe that Dad got off His ass, wherever He is-"

"Don't talk-"

"I'll talk about Him however I damn well want," Gabriel snapped. "He didn't show up for the damn Apocalypse, why come just to drag you out of Hell?" His finger stabbed accusingly at Michael.

"I don't pretend to know what He thinks, but-"

"But what? He wanted His little General back in the field, couldn't let them stay in Hell for too long or they might go the same way as Lucifer-"

"Do not _ever_ say that to me!" Michael and Gabriel were suddenly nose-to-nose and Gabriel had to stop himself leaping backwards.

Michael's eyes were narrowed and nir hands fisted in Gabriel's shirt. "If you think that I would ever turn against Heaven-"

"I never said that." Gabriel tried and failed to slip out of nir grip. Michael, as if ne had just noticed what ne was doing, abruptly let go.

"Surprised the Winchesters managed to stop you," said Gabriel, smoothing out his shirt. "I mean, the fact that they managed to stop you two having your little slap-fight - impressive, considering how determined both of you were to go through with it-"

"I was ordered," said Michael quietly. "That didn't mean I wanted to."

Gabriel stopped completely, staring at Michael in confusion.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Did I just hear _you -_ the _General_ of the _entire_ Host - say you _didn't_ want to follow orders?"

"Lucifer was my brother - _our_ brother," Michael retorted. "Of course I didn't want to kill him. You wouldn't."

"Yeah, well, considering he tried to kill me, not a whole lot of love left."

"He _what?"_

Gabriel scoffed. "Don't act so naive, Michael, you know the rules as well as I do; you thought I was dead, and only an archangel can kill another archangel."

Michael seemed near speechless. "I don't believe that he would seriously-"

"What, didn't you talk it over in the pit before Daddy dearest pulled you out?"

"Stop it, Gabriel."

"Stop what?"

"What made you so angry at our Father?"

"Who says-"

"You can't lie to me, Gabriel." Michael didn't look at all smug, and not even angry anymore. "Maybe to Michael Corner, but not to me."

Gabriel didn't reply, instead bending down to look at the colorful planet, which was floating around his midriff.

"Gabriel." He heard Michael sigh, and damnit it was like he was a fledgling again and had fucked something else up. "It is because He talked to us?"

"I'm not mad at Him."

"Yes, you are." Gabriel knew Michael had come closer but he didn't look up. "He didn't just pull me out, you know. He gave us a choice."

Gabriel did look up at that. "Both of you?"

"Yes. He said we could stay in the Cage until the next time someone broke the seals, or we could become human."

"And you... _chose_ human." Michael making nir own choices. Pigs would fly.

"We both did."

Gabriel leaped to his feet at that. "Bo - you're telling me that Lucifer's running around somewhere?"

"Don't get so dramatic, Gabriel, he can hardly do any damage."

"Why are you so calm about this?" Gabriel asked after a moment of surprised staring. "Last I knew of you, you'd have been jumping at the chance to catch Lucifer off-guard."

"No, I wouldn't have." Michael said firmly. "And the deal to become human was for more than just fifteen years."

Gabriel got the idea immediately. "Reincarnation." Michael nodded.

"And Lucifer took this deal?" Gabriel asked disbelievingly.

Michael shrugged. "It was a chocie between that and staying in the Cage."

Gabriel gave Michael a considering look. "What about your vessels?"

Michael had obviously not expected this line of questioning. Ne tilted nir head as ne considered it. "I don't know," Ne said. "Castiel managed to pull Sam out fairly quickly, all things considered, but I've got no idea what happened to Adam."

"So he's either wandering around somewhere, or he's the only one still in the Cage." Gabriel pressed his lips together. "You know, I think I remember this kid. You pulled him out of Heaven, didn't you?"

Michael nodded shortly, looking slightly guilty.

Gabriel shook his head. "Some reward."

"Yeah." Michael blew out a breath. "You don't think he's really still down there?"

"Who knows?" Gabriel spun around, easily stepping over the planet and its twin suns. "Why do you look guilty, anyway? Did time served as a human give you a conscience?"

"Maybe it did," Michael said quietly. "Is that a bad thing?"

Was it?

"It shouldn't be," Gabriel replied easily, but internally he wondered. How long had Michael been human to affect nem to that extent?

"You said Lucifer tried to kill you," Michael began after the silence had begun to drag on. Ne had an unreadable expression, but Gabriel could have sworn ne looked worried. "I felt it when it happened. How did you survive?"

"Please." Gabriel scoffed. "I was up against _Lucifer._ You think I'd be stupid enough to let him get my real blade?"

"He would have noticed it was a fake."

"I know. I took precautions. That led to, well-" Gabriel gestured to himself and his vessel. "Unexpected consequences."

Michael didn't look like ne fully understood, but ne didn't ask further - which Gabriel was glad for, because he didn't feel like explaining again.

"So." Gabriel let his hands swing at his sides. "Now what? You track down Lucifer, find his Grace, duke it out like you originally planned?" _Please, Michael, use that conscience of yours and say no._

Michael looked conflicted, and even a little reluctant. "I don't know," he said eventually. Gabriel closed his eyes for a brief moment.

Damn it.

"Really?" He asked, looking at Michael angrily. "You're just going to go back to that old plan?"

"What else is there to do?" Michael demanded. "If you've got a message that says differently then by all means, share it."

"I don't need Dad to give me a message to know what it's a stupid idea," Gabriel snapped. "I thought you didn't want to?"

"I don't!" Michael had drawn nemself to nir full height and ne and Gabriel were back to glaring at each other, wings fluffed in and bristling. "But I don't see anyone telling me to do otherwise!"

"Do you have to have someone tell you to do everything?" Gabriel spat back.

"At least _I_ didn't run and hide!"

"So what if I did!" Gabriel jerked his hand away from where it had unconsciously strayed towards his angel blade, and Michael's eye caught the movement. "At least I must have figured out something you didn't, you blind idiot! If Dad really wanted to you two to end the world, then why didn't He make you fight when He hauled your asses out of the Cage?!"

Michael hesitated, stiffening. Ne didn't reply immediately, and instead turned so that nir back was to Gabriel.

"I'm going back to Earth," Gabriel said when Michael showed no sign of turning around. "Good luck with your existential crisis."

"No - wait." Michael turned sharply and Gabriel was tempted to leave anyway, just to piss nem off.

"You're mad at me, too."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, more of this?"

Michael didn't do anything other than frown slightly. "Gabriel-"

"If you say anything about expressing my feelings, I'm leaving."

"No, I-" Michael made as if to come closer, but seemed to think better of it. "Gabriel...I'm sorry."

What. The actual. Fuck.

" _What?"_ Gabriel stared at Michael, completely forgetting to try and look intimidating. "Who are you, and what have you done with Michael?"

"Is it really that surprising that I'd apologize? You've heard me-"

"I've heard Michael Corner," Gabriel interrupted. "Not you."

Michael opened nir mouth and then closed it again without saying anything. Ne looked away from Gabriel and down at the colorful planet.

"I remembered everything I'd ever done in a heartbeat," ne said. "I was all the sudden Michael, _the_ Michael, again, and...there was a part of me that said there was no way I could have done something like that." Ne paused for a moment, wings shuffling around and drawing around nem almost protectively. "So...I fucked up. And it took hundreds of years of being human to make me see that. So I'm sorry."

In all of the years Gabriel had ever known his sibling, he'd never seen Michael looking so _vulnerable._ It was almost _wrong;_ ne was Michael, Gabriel's eldest sibling and Commander of the Host and ne was standing there with nir wings wrapped around nem like ne was afraid of what Gabriel might say.

Gabriel made a disgusted noise and looked away. Damn nir apologizing skills, because Michael wasn't lying and Gabriel couldn't stay mad at nem when ne was acting like that.

"Gabriel?" He could tell Michael was looking at him.

"I accept that you're sorry," Gabriel said resignedly.

"...I guess I can't expect anything better." Michael glanced up from the planet. "Should we head back?"

"You can. I'm not going to explain to a load of wizards what's happened.

"You never did like doing things like that," Michael muttered.

"That's why it was your job," Gabriel retorted with little real heat.

Michael nodded lightly, a nonverbal agreement. "I'll see you later, then."

"...Yeah." There wasn't really a reason anymore for Gabriel to avoid nem, after all.

With twin movements, both archangels vanished.

* * *

 **Yeah. Kinda OOC Michael. I think you can see why I rewrote it. Reviews, anyone?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Another original scene! This one never made it into the final story - it's from when I was considering bringing in Raphael and Lucifer, which as you know was ultimately discarded as a plotline. Just so you know, Raphael's vessel is largely based off the one she has in The Last Archangel [inukagome15].**

 **As a personal headcanon, I always thought Gabriel would be a lot closer to Raphael than to the other archangels.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

"Raphael?"

[Gabriel] was gaping at the girl - his _sister,_ who up until now he'd thought was dead - in disbelief. She was smiling, but almost nervously, like she wasn't sure of their reaction.

"I thought you were dead." Michael's sword was held lax by nir side, and ne was staring as well.

"I could have said the same of both of you," Raphael replied. "I'm inclined to think that Someone intervened."

Gabriel could practically hear the capitals. He also knew who she was talking about.

Michael's sword vanished, and ne raised nir hand to Raphael's shoulder. "I'm glad you're alright," ne said, relief bleeding through nir Grace freely. "I didn't want to think-" Ne broke off, and then ne surprised Gabriel by pulling Raphael into a hug.

Raphael looked surprised, too, but she relaxed into it far more quickly than Gabriel would have expected, releasing [Michael] with a smile more genuine than her first one.

"I'm happy to see you, too," she said, fondness apparent, and turned to face Gabriel.

"What," she said, "No words for your sister?"

Gabriel hugged her too.

He felt Raphael's arms wrap around him, and bent his head into the crook of her shoulder so he could pretend there wasn't anyone else there.

"I thought I was the only one left," Gabriel muttered. Raphael stiffened, and judging by the way Michael's Grace sharpened, _someone_ couldn't keep their ears to themselves.

Raphael was the first to let go. "You'll have to tell me what I've missed," she said. "I know I've missed some things."

"Sure." Gabriel said immediately, ignoring the brief hurt that flashed across Michael's face. "I wouldn't say you've missed that much."

"I'll be the judge of that, thank you." Raphael was still smiling. "It's good to see you again, Gabriel."

"...Yeah. You too." Gabriel glanced around at the hallway they were in, wondering why they hadn't been walked in on yet. "We should probably go somewhere more private."

"Lead the way, then."

* * *

 **I wrote less of this than I originally I thought. I think I lost the notebook with most of this plotline written down. Oh, well.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Yes, more of the discarded plotline with Raphael and Lucifer. It's written in a sort of chat style because that's easier to write out than a full scene since I don't have to add in dialogue or movement cues for the characters or describe the scene or anything. I'm assuming you can guess who's talking. I don't remember the exact context for this scene, since I wrote it a while ago.  
**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter**

* * *

R: Are you okay now?

G: Mph. What time is it?

R: It's been about twelve hours. Michael and Lucifer are still downstairs.

G: What for?

R: I assume to talk privately, or assure themselves you were okay once you woke up.

G: Not arguing?

R: I haven't heard anything.

G: That's a first.

* * *

M: So, er...I assume we all know why we're here-

G: You make it sound like we're staring a business meeting. Lighten up, Michael.

L: Are you alright, Gabriel?

G:...Yeah.

R: What about you?"

L: What?

M: They used some magic and fixed him up.

L: It's convenient

L:...I want to apologize.

G: Wh - to me?

M: We're here to put all our cards on the table. We're not going to be able to get anything done if we keep arguing about everything.

G: So we'll do the same thing you said the first time-

R: And how well is that working for you and Michael?

G:...

M: So we're going to sort everything out, however long it takes.

G: We'll be here for a while, then.

R: You're the only one who doesn't seem willing.

G: Even _you_ two-

L: We've talked.

M: Gabriel, please.

G: You're serious.

R: Every bit.

G: ...What did you want to say?

L: About the Elysian - I don't...have an excuse. _Any_ excuse. Gabriel, I'm sorry.

G: You're sorry.

L: I can't say anything more than that without making excuses. I know it doesn't do much, but - I had to say it.

R: ...Gabriel?

G: I get it, alright? Just...don't expect a while lot to change.

M: *sigh*

R: What about you?

G: What about me?

M: You left.

L: You _what?_

G: So what if I left?

L: You left Heaven.

G: _So?_

R: Why?

G: _Why?_ I dunno, because everything went to shit after Lucy fell?

L:...Really?

M:...There were always meant to be four of us.

G: I'd say we sort of fucked up the getting-along thing.

* * *

 **This is super short, so I'm adding in another bit from this same arc. Same general idea. Warning for implications of suicide.  
**

* * *

Gabriel hit the door one more time, but it stayed stubbornly closed. Hermione had copied the symbols too well, and he hadn't even noticed - he'd thought the magic on the door was just to keep the kids out of Order meetings.

Gabriel refused to turn around and look at his siblings.

"Well, that's just perfect." The voice belonged to Raphael - none of them had female bodies save her.

"They locked us in?" Gabriel could picture Michael throwing an angry glance at Lucifer. "How?"

"They must have copied the sigils from the other door I reinforced," Gabriel reluctantly volunteered.

"What did you reinforce a door for?"

"In case I needed to lock Michael somewhere." He said it casually, but inside he was coiled tight and tense.

Which also meant, when he felt a cool hand on his shoulder, Gabriel flinched away from it so violently that he flew to the other side of the table, in the corner of the room opposite Lucifer, whose hand was still outstretched.

This had the unfortunate side effect of putting him closer to Raphael, but better her than Michael or Lucifer.

Lucifer turned around, but Gabriel pointedly looked away, wings shuffling uncomfortably as he was reminded of his sibling's new 'apologetic' stance.

The problem was, Gabriel didn't think he was lying, but he couldn't reconcile this human Lucifer with the Lucifer who had forced an angel blade through his chest.

"What now?" Michael asked irritably. "Just sit here until they decide to let us out? I thought they wanted our help with Voldemort and his followers."

"Maybe they got tired of us avoiding each other all the time and decided to take the situation into their own hands," Raphael suggested dryly.

Lucifer snorted. "Shows what they know."

"If all of us were at full power, it would have been a bad idea." Michael was still standing like the rest of them, despite the plethora of chairs in the room. "But you two are still human."

Once upon a time, Lucifer might have reacted with disgust at being called human, but now he didn't even flinch.

"Why did you accept?" Michael asked eventually.

Raphael looked confused, but Gabriel understood.

"It was a choice between that and the Cage," Lucifer said quietly. "After another couple centuries down there...bow bad could humanity be?"

"You _chose_ to become human?" Raphael looked astonished. Lucifer looked the other way.

"We were both offered a choice," Michael said when the silence began to drag on. "And I suppose we both took the same option."

"I don't remember how I became human," Raphael replied eventually. "I guess it was like falling, in a way, except without the fall."

"What was the point of making us all human?" Lucifer asked, hands clenching on the back of a chair.

"Maybe so we could see what we'd done wrong," Michael answered quietly.

They stood in silence for a minute until Michael sighed, pulled a chair out, and sat down. "We all know by now that humanity's...not exactly as we thought it was."

"Agreed," said Raphael, taking her own seat.

Lucifer exhaled shakily. "It offered...new perspective." He said finally. "What I'd done-"

"Don't." Michael interrupted, making the rest of them give nem startled looks. Ne took a deep breath. "We've all done things we're not proud of," Ne continued, "But you don't have to-"

"I _do_ have to, Michael." Lucifer burst out. " _Lillith_ least of all - what I've done - I couldn't-"

"You couldn't cope with it," Raphael finished, far softer than Gabriel would have expected her to be.

Lucifer's breath was huffed out, and Gabriel's perceptions of his older brother were really getting screwed over.

"This isn't - the only time." Lucifer admitted. "I was - I _had_ more than one human life where I remembered."

Michael, who had been listening patiently [and since when was Michael patient?] seemed startled by this new information. Lucifer kept talking before ne could interrupt.

"Sometimes I - I dealt with it, sort of, but...other times I ended it."

 _What._

Gabriel was aware that he had a death grip on the table, but he couldn't bring himself to let go. All three of them were staring at Lucifer in horror, but his face was in his hands and he didn't see. Raphael swore under her breath in Enochian.

"Samael," Michael whispered, and Lucifer stiffened.

"I'm not."

"You are. If you hadn't Fallen-"

"Michael please...not now."

"...Do you regret that?"

"Do you regret what you did?"

"Yes." None of them had expected the immediate answer. "I - a thousand times over, I've told myself I shouldn't have done it." Michael's voice became almost pleading. "I thought I _had_ to."

"I know." Lucifer put his hands palm up on the table and stared at them. "Humans...they experience everything so _differently._ They feel more than we do." He lifted his eyes slightly and then looked back at the table instead of Michael. "But I can't love them more than _Father_." He said the last word in Enochian.

Michael breathed out sharply, closing nir eyes briefly and then opening them. " _You regret it_ ," ne said finally.

" _Yes_."

Michael still looked distrustful of Lucifer, which Gabriel whole-heartedly agreed with. "Why did you try and kill Gabriel?"

Lucifer looked shocked. Gabriel resumed his death grip on the table. Raphael's hand found its way to his arm, and he didn't try and dislodge it.

"I..." Lucifer shook his head. "I don't have any excuse-"

"I wasn't asking for one. I asked _why._ He's your little brother, Lucifer."

"I know."

Gabriel was entirely uncomfortable with this line of conversation, but he didn't dare turn his back on his siblings to avoid it.

"I didn't want to." He _definitely_ didn't want to listen to Lucifer sounding pitiful.

"Then why?"

"What's the point of this, Michael?" Gabriel snapped, and tried not to back down when both of them sharply turned their attention to him.

"What are you talking about?"

"This sudden need to defend me? I'm not dead. End of story."

" _Not_ end of story," Michael said severely, but Lucifer looked surprised and almost...relieved? "He tried to _kill_ you."

"I'm aware," Gabriel said. "I still think he's an ass-" He tried to ignore the way Lucifer's expression dropped. "But I'd rather not sit through you interrogating him."

"You don't think-"

"Just please shut up about me." _No, I don't want to know why my brother tried to kill me._

* * *

 _Some time later  
_

"When do you think they're going to open the door?"

Gabriel shrugged. "Maybe never."

Raphael grinned wryly. "If there's one thing I've learned about humans, it's that they're not incredibly patient."

"You're right on that point.

* * *

R: You've been avoiding Lucifer.

G: Oh, really? I hadn't noticed.

R: I'm not blaming you. I have been, too, a little bit.

G:...

R: It's odd seeing him like this.

G: Mm.

R: Are you avoiding him because of that, or...what he did?

G: What do you think, Raphael?

R: I think that he truly is sorry.

G: Yeah, well, he still did it.

R: You weren't the only one who was ever affected, you know. I thought you were dead for ages.

G: Don't start lecturing me.

R: I wasn't going to. I get why you left. I'm mad that you did-

G: You said you understood.

R: I understand. That doesn't mean I have to like it. What did you think leaving was going to solve?

G: I was trying to avoid the problem, not solve it.

R: It was really that bad, huh?

G: For you, maybe not. I thought being human gave you a new view on all of this?

R: It was a while ago, and I haven't changed that much.

R: About Lucifer-

G: How about _not_ about Lucifer?

R: No, we need to talk about this. Do you think he's being serious when he says he regrets what he's done?

G:...Yes.

R: That's what I thought. I just wanted to be sure I wasn't being tricked. It's harder to tell...like this.

G:...

R: You don't want to forgive him, do you?

G: Would you?

R: I don't know. In your position, he'd probably have succeeded.

G: You're older than me.

R: You're sneakier.

G: Aw, Raphael, you're gonna make me blush.

R: I'm serious.

G: Do you think we _should_ forgive him? What would that even mean? Bringing him back upstairs and pretending nothing ever happened?

R: Probably not. I don't think many would react well to Lucifer returning to Heaven.

G: You didn't answer my first question.

R:...

R: Do you think our Father would forgive him?

G:...Like I'd know.

R: Why do you say that?

G: Well, unless you've seen him anytime in the last few millenia-

R: You don't think you can guess?

G:...

R: I think he would.

G: The same guy who told Michael to kick Lucifer's ass in the the first place?

R: I think that was meant as a test for Michael.

G: A test?

R: You don't remember all the little challenges He used to give us?

G: Hardly 'little'. You think He was watching to see what decision Michael would make?

R: Maybe. It would explain why He asked Michael to do it.

G: So what? All this is just Him seeing what we do?

R: Maybe He tried to give us free will, too, and he was seeing if it had worked.

G: _Us?_

R: Well, I wouldn't call what Lucifer did 'following orders'.

G: So He tried with us, failed, and made humans instead?

R: I didn't say failed.

G: You sure as Hell implied it.

R: I didn't mean...*sigh* You're twisting my words.

G: Not really.

R: I know you don't like me, but you could at least pretend not to be blatantly hostile.

G: I'm not - *aggravated sigh* I don't like Lucifer. You're alright.

R: No opinion on Michael?

G: They did sort of try to end the world.

R: So did I. I'd say I made a bigger mess of it.

G: ...You're different.

R: You mean human? So is Michael.

G: I'm allowed to be a hypocrite. I almost died.

R: Sixteen years ago?

G: I take what I can get.

R: I understand why you're mad at Lucifer, but you're being too hard on Michael."

G: Am I?

R: _Yes._ And you know it.

G: Well, too bad for Michael.

R: He's trying-

G: They.

R: _They_ are trying. It's not Michael's fault you keep pushing them away.

G: It's not as easy as it sounds.

R: You had an easy enough time forgiving me. What else is there to forgive Michael for?

G:...Raphael-

R: I think you're just not used to being around us.

G: What? *scoffs* Come on.

R: I'm serious. How long were you away from Heaven? None of us are used to being around each other again.

G: You and Michael-

R: Saw each other far less than you seem to think - but yes, we saw each other more recently, before any of us ended up here.

G:...

R: All I'm asking is you could give them a break once in a while.

G: Easier said than done.

R: Then start doing it.

G: You're not gonna let this go, are you?

R: I just think it would be nicer if we could get along.

G: You didn't say anything about Lucifer.

R: I'm still working on that myself.

G: Aren't we all.

* * *

 **..Well? What did you think?**


	4. Chapter 4

**I know this is in Alternate Vessels, but it's not something I ever planned on even putting in the story. It's more of a stray plot bunny that seized me last night and refused to let go, which is an odd mental picture.**

 **Also, each line break is a skip to a different scene later in the book. I warn about it because I think it's done pretty abruptly. I tried to make it as obvious as possible what scene it is, so hopefully you guys will be able to tell. The majority is from the Deathly Hallows, but it starts in the beginning of Order of the Phoenix.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.**

* * *

"I think they heard you shouting five cities away."

"Yeah Harry, let it out," George teased. "It's not good to bottle it up like that."

Taken aback, Harry just scowled at them. "It's none of your business," he said hotly. "I - I haven't been told _anything_ all summer!"

"We know," Fred said. "But if you'd like to be told something, we should probably start with that guy." He was looking at Ron and Hermione. "Y'know..."

"Oh!" Hermione seemed to suddenly realize what they were talking about. "Are you sure?"

"He's gonna meet him eventually," Ron pointed out.

"Who are you talking about?" Harry demanded.

"Pretty sure they mean me."

It was more than a little surreal to turn around and see yourself leaning in the doorway. Harry stopped dead.

"Hey," his - twin? - offered. "I'd shake your hand, but apparently no one's sure whether that won't bring apocalyptic, universe-rending doom down upon us."

"It was something Voldemort did," Hermione said. "We think. Some ritual...he was probably trying to get at you, but he got...well, _alternate_ you."

 _"Alternate_ me?" Harry spun to face her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Alternate, as in from alternate universes." His otherself strode into the room casually. He wasn't wearing glasses, and his hair was much longer than Harry's - more along the lines of how he'd styled it the year previously. He was smiling in a smirky sort of way that rubbed Harry the wrong way. "Most people have heard of the concept? It's a sci-fi thing."

"I don't read a lot of that," Harry said defensively.

"Eh," Other-Harry said. "You're wizards. I'll give you a pass." He DisApparated with a _crack_ that seemed weirdly echoey, leaving Harry staring at his friends.

"What the _hell_?"

"Hey, it's been weird for us too, mate," Ron said. "He may look like you, but he doesn't act a bit like you. More like Draco Malfoy-"

"You're just saying that because you don't like him," Hermione said dismissively.

"You've got to admit they're a little similar, Hermione," Fred said. "It's just less 'my father will hear about this'."

"It's more like he's pretending to be nice and planning our collective demises in his head," George continued. Hermione scoffed.

"He's trapped in the wrong universe," she said. "I don't think we can expect him to be _happy_ about it."

"It's just weird-" George began.

"That he looks so similar but acts so different," Fred finished.

"I mean-"

"Maybe if this other Harry was _white,_ it wouldn't be so much of a surprise."

"White people can be assholes."

"You're white," Ron said in exasperation. " _I'm_ white! Our entire family is!"

"C'mon, Ron-"

"You've _seen_ Percy, are you really going to argue?"

* * *

Harry didn't see the other-Harry for almost the entire year, and nearly succeeded in forgetting about him.

But the manner in which he was abruptly reminded of the other's presence made it kind of hard to forget.

"I don't have it!" Harry shouted at Bellatrix. "It's broken! Your master's not going to be happy when he hears that!"

"You lie!" The head of the house-elf statue shattered as another spell hit the fountain. "Give it to me! _Accio prophecy!_ "

Harry just laughed. She had lost, and she didn't even know it.

"No!" Bellatrix screamed. "Master, I am sorry, I didn't know!"

"He can't hear you!"

"Can't I, Potter?" The voice was quiet, but against the sudden, ringing silence in the Atrium it was easy to hear, and it froze Harry in place.

The statue exploded behind him, and Harry threw himself away, barely managing a _Protego._ A few stray shards of gold got past it, cutting into his skin. Harry could feel a scrape on his cheek bleeding.

Voldemort stood at the other end of the Atrium, regarding him coldly. Bellatrix had vanished - Harry must have missed the _crack_ of Apparition while he dodged the fountain.

"We meet again," Voldemort said. "You escaped me last time...but no matter. I will end it here."

"You've lost more than that," Harry said, scrambling to his feet. His wand had was shaking, but he kept it trained on Voldemort. "Your ritual failed. You didn't get me."

Voldemort hissed wordlessly. "Do you imagine that I was so careless as to try and summon _you_? No, Potter...if my ritual had succeeded, I would have summoned a being of incalculable power...but nothing showed up. And now I must resort to _this._ "

"What?" Harry was frozen again, for another moment. "But someone-" He cut himself off. Someone _had_ showed up for that ritual.

Or some _thing._

Harry was seized with a sudden and acute dread. Exactly what had they been harboring in Grimmauld Place this whole time?

Voldemort's snakelike eyes were fixed unnervingly on him. "You know something," he said, eyes narrowing even further. "Tell me, Potter...what did the Order find in the remnants of that ritual?"

"Me, mostly," a new and horribly familiar voice said. "Some other stuff, but let's face it, I'm the most important."

Other-Harry had somehow gotten in, standing equidistant between the two of them. He glanced at Harry, looking unimpressed.

Voldemort looked almost furious. "It _worked_? Then why have you not appeared to me before?" He pointed one long, white finger at Harry like a dagger. "I order you to kill him!"

Other-Harry slowly looked at Voldemort. One eyebrow inched its way up his forehead.

"Alright," he said. "Let's get this straight. I do not do _anyone's_ dirty work. I barely do my own dirty work. And secondly, even if you didn't happen to be a genocidal douchebag, you don't even have a fucking nose. I'd refuse on principle."

Voldemort didn't seem to know how to respond to that. Harry was still trying to process the fact that his otherself - or whoever the hell he was - had just called Voldemort a douchebag.

"You have to do what I say!" Voldemort sputtered eventually. "The ritual-"

"Ritual, smitual," Other-Harry cut him off calmly. "See, here's the deal with being - what was it? 'A being of incalculable power'..." He smirked, sharp and predatory and not something that looked like it belonged on Harry's face. "The rules don't apply."

Voldemort seemed to make a decision in a split second. " _Avada Kedavra!_ "

Other-Harry held up his hand, and the curse stopped dead before it hit him.

"Really?" He asked, sounding more bored than insulted. He twisted his hand, and the curse shattered into tiny chips of green light that faded in a second.

Then Harry was seized with a blinding light and _pain_ and everything _hurt-_

* * *

"He couldn't really have possessed you, yannow."

Harry spun around so fast that he felt his neck crack. Other-Harry looked amused, perched on the end of his bed. The Gryffindor dormitory was empty, except for the two of them - formerly one of them.

"What are you doing here?"

"Can't I catch up and see how it went?" Other-Harry was still smirking. Harry was beginning to think it was his default expression. "You going up against Voldemort and all."

"Why do you care?" Harry challenged. "I mean - I know you're my alternate self and everything-"

"Don't flatter yourself," the other said, cutting him off shortly. "You're just the most interesting person in this castle at the moment."

Harry eyed him suspiciously. "What are you?"

"That's a little rude," Other-Harry said. "You don't even know my name. Doesn't that usually come _before_ you start quizzing someone about their species?"

The word _species_ lingered uneasily. "Fine," Harry said. "What's your name?"

"Loki."

The way he was grinning put Harry off a bit. "Is that your real name?" He asked.

Loki's grin widened. "It's one of them."

Harry gave it up. "What are you, then?" He was interested despite himself. He'd already told Ron and Hermione and the Order about what had happened that night. He knew the name alone would probably have Hermione up researching possibilities.

"You heard Voldemort," Loki said. "Being of incalculable power. That about sums it up."

"I meant _specifically_ ," Harry said in frustration. "How did I even end up as a - being of - whatever?"

"That's a trick question," Loki mused. " _Technically,_ I'm not you at all. I mean sure, it's your body - or your alternate self's body, or whatever. I'm just...borrowing it."

"You're _what_?"

"Don't be so uptight," Loki scoffed. "Believe me, taking a vessel is _way_ preferable to me walking around without one. You think Voldemort caused chaos, wait 'till you see what I do _accidentally._ Besides, it's not like there's anyone else in here other than me. No human souls rattling around inside."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"You don't," Loki said cheerfully. "But I am. Voldemort, some dead parents, a killing curse, I'm sure you know the story. I just happened to be in the area looking for a vessel."

"But I survived that," Harry objected.

"Yes you did." Loki raised his eyebrows. "And your alternate self did not. That's why they call them _alternate_ universes, genius - they're _different_ than the one you're in."

"So there's just no... _me_ in your universe?"

"They don't need him over there," Loki said, waggling his eyebrows and grinning. "They've got me."

* * *

Harry didn't see a single hint of Loki over the summer, and was relieved - he wasn't sure if he could have dealt with his weird alternate not-self.

He was relieved, that is, until Death Eaters broke in and they really could have used Loki's help.

"You have had _quite_ the night, haven't you?" And of course, he only showed up _after_ Dumbledore was dead.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Ron had scrambled out of his seat, and was staring at Loki like an alligator was sprawled in the formerly empty armchair.

"Relax." Loki looked amused by Ron's reaction, but then again _everything_ seemed to amuse him. "I just thought I'd drop by."

"I don't know if you noticed," Hermione said shortly, "but now isn't exactly a good time."

"And _that_ is why I'm up here instead of in a different part of the castle." Loki settled further into the chair, looking for all the world like it was exactly where he belonged. It hadn't gotten any more unnerving to see an identical version of him walking around, but Harry wasn't in the mood to try and persuade Loki to leave.

"What do you want?" Ron asked, scowling as he sat back down.

"Who says I want anything?" Loki countered. "You three are the ones planning something."

"We're not planning anything," Harry said.

"Really?" Loki arched an eyebrow. "What's up with your secret mission with the old dude, then?"

The three of them froze.

"How do you know about that?" Harry demanded.

"Like I said, you're the most interesting thing in this universe at the moment," Loki reminded him. "I've been keeping an eye on you guys for ages."

"What the hell!" Ron sounded scandalized. "That's invasive!"

Loki scoffed. "Not _that_ invasive. Your bathroom time is none of my business, and I frankly don't _want_ it to be." He gave Ron an unimpressed once-over.

"Wait," Hermione said. "So you know about Horcruxes."

Loki's face immediately smoothed into cool indifference. "What about them?"

"We need to find them."

"Oh, brother." Loki rolled his eyes. "If you're about to ask me to help you look for them-"

"We'll help you get back to your universe," Hermione said. Loki's attention snapped back to her.

" _Deal._ " Loki grabbed Hermione's hand so quickly the motion was almost a blur. The smile on his face was as sharp as the one he'd given Voldemort, and Harry _really_ hoped he was imagining the crackle of magic that sealed the handshake.

What had Hermione just gotten them into?

* * *

Harry had just closed the door of the bathroom after Hermione when he heard a whistle. "Lie to your friends often?"

"Merlin's-" Harry spun around, flattening his back to the door. He wished he could have said he was surprised to see Loki perched on the [closed] toilet. "I thought you said you didn't do this!"

"You're still wearing clothes, aren't you?" Loki said. "If you _do_ have any plans on getting undressed, it's hardly anything I haven't seen before."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Loki gestured between the two of them. "Same body? Remember?"

Flushing, Harry moved to the sink, trying to find a place for his toothbrush and avoiding looking at Loki. "What do you want?"

"What did you see?" Loki asked him.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"No? I was pretty sure you knew you were having visions of Voldemort."

"It's none of your business," Harry said hotly.

"Funny, I thought I got roped into this whole misadventure." Loki stood up, moving to lean against the counter instead. "You _know_ that's not a thing humans normally do, right? Unless they're psychic. Or prophets. And you're neither."

"Yes," Harry said tightly.

"Just checking," Loki said cheerfully. "Man, these Horcruxes really are a problem, huh?"

"That's why Hermione asked you to help." Harry put his toothbrush behind the faucet, turning one of the handles with a creak. Water cascaded into the sink with a whoosh. Harry stuck his hands under it. Maybe if he looked busy enough Loki would take a hint and leave.

"That's the hot water," Loki said.

"No it's no - _ouch_!" The water went from freezing to scalding hot in a second. Harry yanked his hands away, nearly crashing into the wall behind him. Loki laughed loudly, like it was the most hilarious thing he'd ever seen.

When Harry looked up, the mirror only reflected one of him.

"Fantastic," he grumbled. "An all-powerful being, and he gets his kicks hurting us."

He could already tell that this was going to end in chaos.

* * *

"We _got_ the Horcrux?" Ron pushed himself into a sitting position. "Bloody hell, no one tells me anything! Let me see it!"

Hermione pulled it over her head, the emeralds sparkling in the sun.

"How are we going to destroy it?" Harry asked, the realization accompanying the dread creeping up on him.

Hermione hesitated. "Maybe we should call Loki."

"No way," Ron objected immediately.

"Who else do we know who can destroy it?" Hermione asked.

"I'm not saying it's a bad idea," Harry said, "but how are we supposed to get in touch with him? It's not like he's got a phone we could call."

Harry hesitated. "Well," he said. "You did promise to help him get home. He'll probably find us eventually."

* * *

Loki did find them about an hour later.

"A warning would be nice next time," he said, making Ron startle so badly that he nearly fell off the bed.

"Bloody _hell_ -"

"We didn't have time to give you a warning," Hermione told him. "You're one to talk, popping in like this."

"I have to maintain my dramatic flair," Loki said with a completely straight face. "Sucks that you lost your secret hideout."

"You couldn't have helped with that?" Harry asked, moving to stand next to Hermione. "Being incredibly powerful or whatever, you couldn't have - I dunno - given us an easier escape plan?"

"Sure," Loki said. "Except you didn't tell me what you were doing, which is weird, considering you _asked_ me to help you find these things."

"You spent all of five minutes at Grimmauld Place," Hermione reminded him. "We don't know how to contact you-"

"You know what I am." Loki cut her off. "You can't guess?"

"No offense," Ron said in a way that said he absolutely did not mean 'no offense',"but we're not sacrificing anything to you."

"I'll let you skip that." The way Loki said it made Harry think there was an implied _for now._ "You've never tried _praying_?"

"Praying?" Hermione said skeptically.

"Yeah," Loki retorted. "It's something people usually do when any sort of deity is involved? Don't tell me you've never heard of it. And from the looks of how _this_ went, next time I'd suggest a backup plan."

"Fine," Hermione snapped, yanking the Horcrux over her head. "You can _start_ by giving us a backup plan for destroying these."

Loki met Hermione's stare coolly. "I didn't say anything about helping destroy them."

"You promised you'd help," Hermione countered. "If you want to be included, start now."

"You think you can tell me what to do?" Loki's voice was soft, but there was something in it that made Harry want to back away. The lights in the tent flickered.

Loki reached forward, and the metal of the locket bent like paper under his grip. There was a flash that made Harry squeeze his eyes shut and a faint, lingering scream.

The Horcrux barely looked like a locket anymore. Loki was on his feet, having let go of it.

"Next time," he said, "Try to remember what you're dealing with."

The three of them were left staring at the spot he'd previously occupied.

"Hermione," Ron said, "for all our sakes, _don't_ try to boss him around again."

* * *

The next time Loki appeared was when Harry was on guard duty, staring out at leaves and trees and then, abruptly, his reflection.

Harry windmilled backward, scrambling for his wand, and Loki laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen.

"Ha! Your _face_! That was so worth it."

"What are you doing here?" Harry demanded.

"There's nowhere better to be at the moment," Loki said. "I mean, _technically_ I could be in Rio right now, but I look like I'm sixteen so there's no way that's going to be any fun."

Harry was pretty sure 'Rio' was meant to imply something a lot more inappropriate than what he was thinking of. "I thought you bailed."

"Hey, binding agreement." Loki wiggled his fingers, green sparks flickering around them. "I'm not interested in being stuck here for however long until this universe bites the dust, and your friend has offered me what is, apparently, my only out."

"Wait-" _What?_ "You're saying your only other plan is to wait until the world ends?"

"If this universe doesn't exist, I can't be trapped in it, can I?" Loki said it as if it should have been obvious.

"Wouldn't you die then, too?"

Loki just smirked at him. "What do you think?"

"Hermione looked up Norse myths," Harry told him. "They say you will."

"Do you see any other gods here?" Loki spread his arms. "If there's no one around to kill me, I'm not gonna die. Simple math."

"I didn't see anything about gods stealing people's bodies," Harry said.

"Humans never get everything," Loki said. "And what they do get, they don't get all of it right. You think you know me, don't you?"

He'd read the myths about Loki; what they could find, they all read. Still, Harry looked at the person in front of him and realized he didn't have a chance of understanding Loki.

"Not really," he said.

"Smart of you," Loki replied.

* * *

"Oh!" Luna's exclamation of surprise made Harry's head shoot up, and he'd never been so relieved and so incredibly furious to see Loki.

" _Where have you been_?"

Loki scoffed. "Please. I don't exist to live at your beck and call, kid."

"Didn't you hear us?" Ron shouted.

"Sure I did. Your friends are here, though. Now you get to rescue them," Loki said. "And possibly take out a few major players on your enemy's side. You're welcome."

* * *

 **Ok honestly I'm not sure where I was going with this. Might post more later, but my imagination never went much further than the original reveal. Review?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Remember how I said I almost made an ending where Gabriel ended up human?**

 **Yeah. Here you go.**

 **Some of it is fanon for this story, but there's still changes due to Gabriel not being there at all. Some of it is what will actually happen, some of it isn't. And just so you guys know, I did put up something resembling sequels - check out 'Hyacintho Luna' and 'Modern Legend' and let me know what you think!  
**

 **Honestly, this turned more into 'Hermione doing random stuff' than 'Gabriel being human' but whatever maybe I'll write more later**

* * *

Thunder rumbled, fiercely enough that it seemed like it might shake the castle apart around it. Hermione glanced at the sky outside the window nervously. Rain was pounding down from a pitch-black sky, occasionally illuminated by bolts of lightning that looked close enough to set the Forbidden Forest ablaze.

"Michael's pissed," Balthazar said. He was one of the few that she already knew - Muriel had been a surprise, and Castiel she'd never met before.

"That's obvious enough," Aziraphale said. He looked worried, and kept glancing out the window at the sky, like he was expecting more than just a thunderstorm.

It was hardly _just_ a thunderstorm, though.

"How come he can't find Gabriel?" Hermione asked. She hadn't dared to before, not with the way the angels were acting, but she couldn't stand not knowing. Thunder punctuated her sentence with an even more ominous rumble, barely preceded by a flash of lightning.

Castiel still looked stricken. "Gabriel's gone," he said. "There's nothing to find."

"That's not true," Muriel shot back. She looked like she was trying to convince herself of the same. "We know where his Grace is."

"Just his Grace?" Hermione asked sharply.

Balthazar nodded slowly. "That," he said, "and an empty vessel. Wherever the rest of him is..."

He didn't finish. Thunder crashed again, sounding like an avalanche descending on the school.

"Then what can we _do_?" Hermione demanded. This couldn't be the end of it. Gabriel was her _friend._ There had to be _some_ way to get him back.

"Nothing," Balthazar said sharply. "There's nothing _to_ do. None of us have any idea what happened, and the only one who could _tell_ us is fucking in the wind and left behind a vessel and a bloody trail through the forest."

"Balthazar," Muriel said softly, "enough. She's only human."

Hermione didn't think it was meant to sound like an insult, but it still stung. "Who cares if I'm human?" She said hotly. "I'm still his friend! And I don't think you should just be giving up on this!"

"None of us are giving up." Castiel's voice was surprisingly steady as he looked up to meet Hermione's accusatory gaze. "If Gabriel has been parted from his Grace, then the rest of him is somewhere else in a situation similar to Michael's."

It took a moment for Hermione to understand. "Human," she said. "You mean he's human."

"He's not dead," Muriel said, "so yes. Somewhere. We have no idea of knowing where. The only thing we _can_ do at the moment is see if he finds his way here again."

"What if he doesn't?" Hermione asked. "What if he never remembers?"

A particularly loud rumble of thunder broke over their heads. Hermione felt the tower shake. All of them glanced nervously at the ceiling. Hermione guessed that they were all wondering if Michael might bring the school down around their heads on accident.

"Well," Baltahzar said, "there's a reason Michael's furious."

* * *

Hermione tried not to linger on it. Fleur helped - even though she hardly knew Gabriel, she'd known how much losing a friend would affect Hermione.

"He's not really gone, though," she said one night, curling around Hermione in a comforting embrace.

"No," Hermione sighed, twining her fingers around Fleur's. "But there's no guarantee any of us will ever see him again."

Fleur was quiet for a few moments. "I know a little of religion," she said eventually. "The girls at my school - some of them were Muslim."

"You mentioned that before," Hermione said. She could feel Fleur shrug against her back.

"I learned a little from them," Fleur continued. "They prayed often, to a God they fully believed in. I don't know if I do, but...if there are angels, there must be God, right?"

"I guess," Hermione said. "I've never asked any of them about it."

"So if God is real," Fleur said, "then my classmates would also be correct when they say that He has a plan for everything. Wouldn't He eventually lead Gabriel back to you?"

Hermione pressed her face into the pillow. "I don't know." It would be nice to think that there was some plan in motion, some higher power directing everything to a happy ending. "Wouldn't He have stopped Gabriel from ending up human in the first place?"

"God is supposed to have a reason for everything."

"It sure doesn't seem like this was done for a reason," Hermione said. "It just seems like Gabriel nearly getting killed and none of us being able to help him."

Fleur's arms tightened around her. She pressed a kiss to Hermione's neck. "I think Gabriel will be fine," she said. "And you will see him again. Bad things do not last forever for good people."

Hermione wished she could believe that as wholeheartedly as Fleur seemed to.

* * *

Even without Gabriel, life went on.

Hermione visited his family a few times every year, or at least made an effort to remember to. She figured three or four times a year was probably enough - they had a very different concept of time, after all.

The first year, his kids seemed morose, quiet and mostly keeping to themselves. Even the twins had been affected by it - they did a better job of hiding it, but Hermione thought they seemed just as shocked.

"It's just weird, you know?" Vali told her once. "He was the kind of guy that nothing could take down."

"I know what you mean," Hermione said. "Invincible, in a way."

"Yeah." He had stared moodily at nothing in particular for a few seconds. "It sucks. I barely got to know him again."

Hermione had frowned at him. "Got to know him?"

"My mom and him split up when I was a kid," Vali had told her. "I hadn't seen him in, like - well, I was about thirty when it happened, and I'm a little over nine hundred now."

"Oh."

"It hit the other guys hard," he'd said. "Hel, especially. She's basically the only one of us who's had any regular contact with him for...I dunno, the last few centuries or so."

From his tone, Hermione got the feeling she didn't want to know why the rest of them _hadn't_ had any contact.

* * *

A few years after Voldemort's death, Hermione got a job at the Ministry.

"Department of Magical Law Enforcement!" She was practically vibrating with excitement when she got home, throwing her bag to the side and going straight to Fleur.

" _C'est magnifique_!" She hugged Hermione. "Now the house-elves have their defender, yes?"

"Well, I'll have to wait until I'm a bit more senior for that," Hermione said. "I'm just hoping I'll be able to get into the Wizengamot eventually. I still don't know how anyone gets _chosen_ for that-"

"That can wait." Fleur kissed her, pulling back with a wide smile. "We should go out. Tonight. Somewhere nice, to celebrate."

Hermione couldn't help but smile back. "That sounds like a great idea. We haven't been out in ages."

"We should go back to France some time," Fleur said, winding an arm around Hermione's waist. "We can stay with my parents. I can show you all the best places to be."

"I've been to France before." Hermione leaned into the casual embrace.

"You've been to tourist France," Fleur said dismissively. "The real thing is much more impressive."

* * *

Hermione had met Fleur's parents once before - briefly - but being a guest in the Delacour house was a little overwhelming.

"Your parents are really nice," Hermione said.

"They like you," Fleur replied. "And why shouldn't they? You're quite accomplished, especially with Britain's prejudice against Muggleborns."

"You're forgetting my amazing hair," Hermione said.

"That, too." Fleur laughed, closing the distance between them to prop her head on top of Hermione's and lean over her shoulder. "What are you working on?"

"Just Ministry stuff." Being in the DMLE meant bringing work home - and on vacation.

"Oh, not _now._ " Fleur looped her arms around Hermione's shoulders. " _Amoureux,_ work can wait."

"It's for a case."

"For us," Fleur said, "it can wait."

* * *

After Isabelle was born (which only happened after a few years that had managed to be the best years of Hermione's life), Hermione made a habit of inviting Gabriel's three boys over.

They seemed fascinated by Isabelle - or Izzy, as she had been officially dubbed after the first visit. Fleur had been worried about how they would handle being around a much more fragile, human baby, but they were very adept at making sure Izzy didn't hurt herself.

"I helped take care of Hel a lot when she was a baby," Slepnir said when Hermione asked him about it. "And Fenris and Jor, a little bit."

Last time Hermione had checked, Hel had looked _older_ than the three of them. It was frustrating not to know what had happened - the three of them had gotten maybe a year or two older in the time that she'd known them, so there was no way that was just natural aging - but Hermione had been warned by Gabriel the first time she'd met them not to ask.

Either way, they were good playmates and, on occasion, babysitters, when Hermione and Fleur needed to go out. It wasn't as though none of them were old enough. Fleur worried that they'd get into mischief, being related to Loki and all, but Jormungand was apparently very good at reining in any of their siblings' crazy ideas.

The three boys became just as much a part of Hermione's life as Izzy was - and if they were a constant reminder of Gabriel, well, she could deal with that.

Luna would stop by sometimes, as well. She'd adopted two boys around the time Izzy had been born, which Hermione didn't think was just because her father had been dropping not-so-subtle hints about grandchildren.

"Not two boys," Luna had corrected her at one point. "Lillian's a girl. Her name isn't Lorcan."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize."

"It's alright," Luna said. "I didn't realize either until she told me, which was a little awkward. Imagine if you'd adopted someone and spent a week calling them by the wrong name."

"I hope she didn't mind." Hermione poured out two cups of tea.

"I don't think she did. Isn't Fleur coming?"

"She's busy with work," Hermione explained, over the sudden rise in volume from the living room.

Luna glanced towards the door, through which they could see all six children draped over various pieces of furniture and talking animatedly. "I should come by more often."

"It might give the twins someone else to play with other than just each other," Hermione said. "I'd heard you interviewed for the Astronomy position, actually?"

"Oh, yes," Luna said cheerfully. "It's a shame Professor Sinistra's retiring, isn't it? I thought she was quite good."

"I didn't know she was retiring." Hermione sipped at the tea. "Is anyone else?"

"I don't think so," Luna replied. "But Hogwarts is getting more crowded, you know. More people around to have more kids. I think they're going to start hiring more than one professor for each subject, so no one gets overcrowded with students."

"Really?" Hermione couldn't imagine a Hogwarts so crowded - then again, the castle would forever be full of empty rooms and drafty hallways in her memory. "I suppose we never took up much space in the castle."

"It's because we were a war generation," Luna said. "Voldemort killed a lot of people."

"I suppose." Hermione glanced warily into the living room, in case anyone was eavesdropping. They looked too absorbed in whatever game they were constructing to be paying attention. She was pleased to see that Jormungand was sitting to one side with Izzy carefully propped in his lap. "Why Astronomy?"

"Well, it was the only open position," Luna said, "and I wanted to be at Hogwarts when Gabriel came back."

Hermione nearly spilled her cup.

"When _what_?"

"He's going to find his way back eventually," Luna said matter-of-factly. "That's his power in that tree in the Forbidden Forest, isn't it?"

"What does that-" Hermione felt entirely off-kilter. What did Luna know that she didn't?

"Power draws to power," Luna said. "The Grace is Gabriel, and wherever _he_ is is him too. It's all a part of him."

"How are you so sure?" Hermione demanded. Luna shrugged.

"It's just something I know," she said. "It makes sense. He'll be back eventually."

* * *

If Gabriel _was_ coming back to Hogwarts, he didn't seem to be in any hurry.

Lysander and Lillian were going into their second year, and Hermione's life was practically split between taking care of Rose and Ministry duties. She wasn't an Auror, luckily, which meant more regular hours at the Ministry and more opportunities to be at home instead of at work.

Her life was busier than it had ever been at Hogwarts, which meant the years passed quickly enough that she only stopped and fully realized how long it had been when something came up to remind her. When Izzy had first gone to Hogwarts - it seemed impossible that she was eleven already.

Izzy had managed to befriend almost everyone, it seemed, except those in her year, which led to her complaining best friend was graduating. Fenris, who had looked about six the first time Hermione seen him and now appeared to be somewhere in the vicinity of twelve despite seventeen years having passed, was offering to send her letters so she'd have someone to talk to.

"It won't be the same," sighed Izzy. "I'm only going to be in my second year and she's graduating!"

"You can still send her letters," Hermione said. "It isn't as though you'll never see her again."

"I'll be at _school_ all the time." Izzy flopped onto her side dramatically, legs hanging off the sofa. "I won't be able to _see_ her until summer and she might be _busy._ "

"Well, you can figure something out when we see her today." Hermione flicked her wand at the dirty dishes in the sink, and they leapt up and began cleaning themselves.

"You're going to see her today?" Fenris asked curiously.

"It's graduation today," Izzy said.

"Your friend is not the only one graduating," Fleur reminded her, walking in from the other room. "It's Lysander and Lillian's big day, too, so don't spend the whole time with Anna."

"I _woon't._ But it's the last time we'll ever be at school together!"

Fenris looked mystified. "I thought school was already over."

"Graduation takes place after term ends," Hermione told him. "I'm afraid we're about to leave, though. Are you alright getting home on your own?"

"Yeah." Fenris hopped down from the sofa. "I don't live that far away. I'll see you later, Izzy!"

"Bye!"

* * *

"It's odd to think that it's been seven years already," Luna said, making Hermione start.

"Luna - I didn't see you there!" Hermione tried to cover her surprise. "Er - I suppose it has been."

"It's only Izzy's first year, right?" Luna smiled down at Izzy. "How did it go?"

"Good," Izzy said.

Luna nodded, and then her eyes moved to something just behind Hermione. "Oh, hello, Muriel."

"It's nice to see you two again," Muriel said as Hermione turned to face her, startled again. She was wearing robes instead of what Hermione remembered as her usual Muggle jacket.

"You as well," Hermione replied automatically. She'd seen almost nothing of any of the angels since Gabriel had vanished. "I didn't know you were still teaching at Hogwarts."

"Muriel took over from Headmistress McGonagall," Luna provided. "It would be a bit difficult to run the school _and_ teach Transfiguration."

"I believe that was most of her motivation," Muriel said with a smile. "Minerva seemed quite loath to give up the position she'd been teaching for so long."

"I can understand that," Hermione said. "I don't remember anyone teaching it but her."

"I think she held the position for a while," Luna said.

Izzy suddenly tugged on Hermione's hand, dragging her attention away from the conversation. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet. "There's Anna! Can I-"

"Go ahead." Hermione watched Izzy dart through the crowd.

"I didn't know you had a daughter," Muriel said, following Hermione's gaze as Izzy squeezed between two boys in Ravenclaw ties.

Hermione resisted the urge to retort with something like _Well, if you wanted you had plenty of time to visit._ "Fleur and I agreed about kids," she settled on. "Though persuading her to use a Muggle method took a while."

"A Muggle method?" Luna questioned.

"Well, we can hardly both of us have a child biologically by natural means-" Hermione's sentence was cut off as Izzy wound back through the crowd towards them, Anna in tow.

"Anna, this is my mum," she said so quickly that there was barely any space between the words. "MumthisisAnna."

"Nice to meet you," Anna said, grinning. "I guess now I know who Izzy got her hair from."

"My hair's _cool._ " Izzy said. "Oh, and that's Anna's brother Luca." A boy had slipped up and seemed to be mostly hiding behind Anna. He looked like he was in between Izzy's age and Anna's. He wasn't wearing robes, just a tee shirt and jeans. He was wearing some sort of pendant, which was a strange addition.

"What year are you in?" Hermione asked, trying to make conversation.

"I'm not magical," Luca said. "'S why I've got this." He pointed to the pendant.

"I'm Muggleborn," Anna explained. "I'm the only one in my family. They gave him that so he could go around the wards."

"I didn't know they could do that." Luna seemed fascinated.

"I helped a bit," Muriel admitted. "Since I know the wards well." She was staring at Luca with furrowed brows, but Hermione couldn't see whatever Muriel found so odd about him.

Luca grinned broadly at her. "Thanks, then," he said. "It feels weird, though. It was all tingly when I came in."

"Really?" Izzy leaned around Anna to get a better look at the pendant. "That's so cool! Maybe we could go down by the edge of the wards and see what happens-"

"I hope not," a new voice said. A woman had come up behind them out of the crowd. "I don't want either of you down by that Forest. I've been told it's called Forbidden for a reason."

" _Mama,_ " Anna said in what was almost a whine. "We weren't going to go down by the forest!"

"Either way, I'd like you both somewhere I can see."

"What if I get someone to turn me invisible?" Luca said in a falsely innocent voice.

"I'm not going to turn you invisible," Anna said.

"But you're allowed to now!"

"No one will be turning invisible," the woman said firmly. "Lord knows you cause enough trouble as it is." She held out a hand to Hermione. "You're Isabelle's mother, correct?"

"Yes." Hermione shook it. She noticed that the woman was wearing a pendant identical to Luca's. "It must be quite something for you to be here."

"Magic is not something I thought I'd ever have to deal with," the woman agreed. "I'm Teresa."

"Hermione Granger. This is Luna," Hermione said, gesturing to Luna, who waved.

"I think I'll leave you to your conversation," she said. "I had better go find the twins. I promised them I'd take them to Weasley's as a graduation present." She drifted off through the crowd.

"Weasley's?" Teresa looked puzzled.

"It's a joke shop," Hermione explained. "They sell things you can use to set up harmless pranks. It's run by a few old classmates of mine, actually."

"It's really cool," Anna said.

"I wanna go," Luca said.

"Absolutely not," Teresa replied. "The last thing you need is _magical_ supplies."

Luca pouted, scuffing his sneakers on the lawn. "Aww."

The sound of heavier feet on the ground alerted Hermione to the fact that someone was behind her. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

" _Michael_?"

Michael smiled at her, but nir attention was somewhere else. "I heard there was a celebration I shouldn't miss."

Hermione didn't miss they way nir eyes flickered to Muriel, like Michael was wondering exactly _why_ ne was there.

"I didn't think you'd be here," Hermione said. "It's graduation, not a reunion."

"Just thought I'd drop by," Michael said. "Can we speak privately for a moment?" Ne seemed like ne was talking more to Muriel than to her.

Hermione gave Teresa a winning smile she'd perfected on the idiots at the Ministry. "Excuse us for a second."

* * *

"What was that all about?" Hermione hissed.

"Muriel's the one who called me," Michael said sharply. "You said this was important."

"It is," Muriel said.

"Then _what_?"

She tilted her head back towards the group they had just left. "Doesn't he look familiar to you?"

It took Hermione a moment to realize she meant Luca, and another moment to realize what Muriel meant. "Oh, my God."

Michael had gone completely still, looking caught between longing and restraint. Nir blue eyes were fixed on Luca - _Gabriel._

But _was_ he Gabriel?

"His Grace is in the forest," Hermione said without even thinking.

"He's barely a teenager _,_ " Muriel said. "Would it - he's just a child."

"Age doesn't matter," Michael said. "We...could explain." It was a weak retort.

Hermione was caught between two options. They could find a way to lead Gabriel back to his Grace...but what would the consequences be?

"Wait." Muriel had held out her hand, and her eyes were on Luca as he slipped away from the crowd, Izzy just behind him.

"Where are they going?" Michael's forehead creased.

* * *

Towards the edge of the wards, as it turned out, which due to the location of the graduation party was right at the edge of the forest.

Luca went inside.

Michael followed him.

Ne hadn't been on Earth in ages - mostly ne had stayed in Heaven, trying to sort out what had gone wrong. Muriel contacting nem had been what brought nem back down - and ne was glad ne had.

Gabriel was important enough that Heaven could wait.

Impatiently, Michael flicked nir wings out, stirring the air into a sudden wind that startled Luca - _Gabriel_ \- forward a few steps when he paused. The tree wasn't that deep in the forest.

Michael wasn't thinking of the sister or the mother that Gabriel had found himself with.

Ne was thinking of a dead Knight and a destroyed warehouse and no sign of a brother.

When Gabriel saw the tree, he paused again, staring up at the canopy that arched a seemingly impossible distance over his head (to a fourteen-year-old, at least). His expression was full of curiosity, and Michael saw nothing but exactly what Gabriel had been when he'd only just been created.

Gabriel approached carefully.

Stumbled.

Put his hand on the trunk to catch himself.

* * *

 **Haha guess what I'm gonna end it there.  
**

 **Review please (and remember guys I wrote two whole new stories so please review on those too)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Some stuff that took place during the eleven-year gap between Modern Legend and The Accidental Vessel. Part one: directly after the final scene.  
**

* * *

Michael doesn't leave immediately, after Gabriel comes back.

They end up retreating to Hermione's flat, because the funeral is over and none of them feel like lingering by a graveyard. Fleur is absent, called back to France for family matters or some kind of urgent situation, so it's just the three of them.

Gabriel brings up the subject, after Hermione has gone to sleep with a stern word or two about how they had better not wake her up before her alarm does. "Are you going back?"

Michael doesn't ask him to clarify. "Eventually," ne says.

"I'm nervous," Michael says, when Gabriel doesn't reply.

"Nervous?"

"I don't want to lose what I've gotten here," Michael says. "They're not going to be expecting me to be different."

"You're _Michael._ "

"I know."

"Verchiel could help," Gabriel offers, probably because he's not sure what to say in this situation.

"I was counting on that, actually," Michael replies, smiling faintly. "Appearing in Heaven last summer and then vanishing again most likely didn't help."

Gabriel shrugs, and doesn't continue the conversation.

"Gabriel," Michael begins cautiously. The silence between them is comfortable, not awkward, but ne still sounds wary. "Have you...spoken to Them, recently?"

The emphasis on Them is enough that Gabriel understands. "Wha - why? Did - did _you_?"

"Yes," Michael says, because ne has already guessed that Gabriel's answer will be yes.

Gabriel stares. "When?"

"While you were injured."

Gabriel frowns. "Was He talking to us simultaneously, or something?"

Michael shakes nir head, but does not explain that answer. "Did They give you a message?" Ne tries to sound casual.

"...No." Gabriel shifts, hand curling around his side where Michael knows the deepest part of the wound is. "We just...talked." He glances at Michael. "You?"

"The same," Michael says. "They didn't stay for very long." Just long enough to rattle Michael so that ne feels the need to see if Gabriel is as shaken as ne is. "Free will was mentioned."

"Free will, huh?" Gabriel doesn't scoff. His eyes are on the floor. "He seems big on that."

"For someone who had me cast down Lucifer," Michael says, "yes, They do."

Gabriel's eyes shoot up to nem, startled - probably because this is the first time Michael has voluntarily brought up Lucifer since the Fall. Michael meets his gaze evenly.

"Huh," Gabriel says. "You really have changed a lot."

Michael doesn't reply immediately. Then ne asks, "Do you miss him?"

" _Lucifer_? He tried to _kill_ me!"

Michael waits.

Gabriel slumps into the sofa. "I miss Samael," he admits quietly, and Michael feels like someone's jerked nir insides in the wrong direction at _that_ name.

"Yeah," ne says. "I do too." Gabriel and Lucifer had always been closer. Gabriel had been closer to practically everyone than he'd been to Michael.

It's one of Michael's bigger regrets.

Gabriel snorts, but his heart isn't in it. "Who would expect this out of a coupla archangels, huh?" He muttered. "'Specially Michael."

"My reputation has gotten a little out of control," Michael tells him. "I should probably fix that."

"Are you kidding?" Gabriel scoffs. "You get yourself down the level of a regular angel, no one's going to listen to you."

"Good," Michael says. "I don't want them to listen if they don't want to."

Gabriel stares. "You're not going to have an easy time of things."

"I'm supposed to be the embodiment of Their will," Michael says. "I might as well start trying to do my actual job instead of what I think my job is."

"Huh," Gabriel says again. "I guess actually talking to Him helps."

"I still have no idea what They want."

"Oh, fantastic." Michael doesn't hear any ill will in Gabriel's grumbling. "He didn't bother to say?"

"No." They hadn't spoken about that, really.

"Why do you think He showed up now?" Gabriel bursts out. "Radio silence for so long, and then a two-minute conversation?"

"You looked," Michael said, "didn't you?" Like ne'd heard Castiel had.

"So?" Gabriel says, but he looks uncomfortable.

"I'm not judging you for that." Michael really isn't. Ne'd have looked, if ne could have.

"You passed on the Judgment shtick to me often enough, you're probably just out of practice."

Michael smiles. "Judgment goes better with Mercy than on its own."

Gabriel shrugs, like he's not sure how to handle the compliment. "Never got around to being merciful very often."

Michael doubts that, but doesn't contest it. "What did you do?"

"What?"

"What did you do, if you weren't off being merciful and spreading Their word?" Michael's sure ne sees Gabriel's mouth twitch with a suppressed smile. "I have missed a few thousand years."

Gabriel is silent for a while. "Maybe later," he offers eventually.

"Alright."

"You're going to be too busy with Heaven to listen to me ramble on about a thousand years' worth of stories," Gabriel adds, cracking a slightly false smile. It gets more genuine when Michael laughs quietly.

"I suppose I'll just have to visit when I need a break."

"And a pack of lies."

"Is that what your stories are?"

"The best parts of my stories are when whoever's listening has to try to figure out whether I'm telling the truth," Gabriel tells him, smirking.

"For you, or for them?"

Michael has missed this. Not that ne ever had it, with Gabriel or anyone else, but it's the closest to the relationship ne had with the other archangels before.

Michael has very much missed that.

"Mostly me," Gabriel admits.

"The puzzle aspect sounds interesting, actually."

"You're not supposed to _enjoy_ it." Gabriel's petulance is all play, and he's still grinning.

"I'll pretend to be irritated, then."

"Well, it's no use doing that now that you told me."

"So the only solution is to pretend I never said anything?"

"I do that anyway."

Michael takes a beat too long to realize Gabriel's still joking. Gabriel's smile fades somewhat.

Michael can't find an answer that will restore the mood and they end up sitting in an only slightly less companionable silence for a few moments. Ne settles on changing the subject instead. "I was going to ask, before," ne said. "Your vessel-"

"What about it?"

"I can tell that's not a human, Gabriel."

Gabriel made a face, extending his hands and looking at them like he was inspecting them. "So?"

Michael isn't sure if ne's reading the situation right. "Were they the real Loki?"

"I'm not a _fake,_ " Gabriel says, nastily enough that Michael backtracks.

"Sorry. The original, then?"

Gabriel's hands clench - not fists, but not a kind motion. "Yeah," Gabriel says grudgingly. "He wasn't shit back then. I needed a disguise good enough to fool anyone no matter how close they looked."

Michael waits. When Gabriel doesn't continue, ne asks, "And?"

"And I made a fuckin' name for myself that he never would've gotten and no one bothered to check who I was, so what? There hasn't been anyone else in here since then. _I'm_ Loki."

It is almost an unnoticeable change, but Gabriel seems to abruptly be softer around the edges, shadowier and a little rougher than pure Grace. Michael doesn't look closer.

"Alright," ne says. "I was just wondering."

Neither of them voice the fact that the disguise - the pagan vessel - was to help Gabriel hide from nem.

"There are still pagans today, y'know," Gabriel says, as if he still thinks there's a point to prove. The rough edges of his Grace haven't vanished.

"I'm aware." Michael had thought it unfortunate before, but ne's aware now that people couldn't be forced into Christianity just because it was 'right' (which it really wasn't - or at least, Heaven wasn't in the right at the moment).

Ne wonders for a moment if Gabriel is trying to brag about those who follow Loki.

"I should go," Gabriel says after a moment. "The boys are probably going to be panicking about me not being back yet."

Michael stands when Gabriel does. "I'll make an effort to drop by."

Gabriel affects a smile he must know won't fool Michael, but the strangeness of him smooths out somewhat. "Call ahead first."

Gabriel leaves, and all that remains is the profound sense he's given Michael that ne missed something important.

* * *

 **Thought I'd establish the Loki thing...and sort of hint at how well Michael would handle that. Though to be fair, this isn't Michael's best area. Angels are biased.**


	7. Chapter 7

**I don't know why I wrote this. My mind just went: _babies._**

* * *

Once Loki got over the whole _pregnancy_ thing and how unbelievably painful actually getting the baby out was, she thought Slepnir was very cute.

Newborn babies were _definitely_ not, but she saw the appeal even though the entire lower half of her torso hurt like hell.

"Boy," the midwife announced, a good woman named Alfdis who was unlikely to mess anything up. Human - gods, least of all anyone in Asgard, could be trusted to be discreet about this. "Do you want to hold him?"

"Of course I do, I didn't just do all that for nothing. Give him here." Loki let Alfdis help her into a sitting position, because Norns _damn_ it her crotch hurt.

Slepnir was a tiny little red-faced lump with his face screwed up in a way that suggested that he was distinctly unhappy about the turn of events. He'd started wailing as soon as he came out, but two arms around him made him quiet down to sniffles and whines.

"He seems very healthy," Alfdis said.

"Of course he is," Loki murmured, strangely enraptured by the tiny godling. Slepnir whined, loudly, and Loki cuddled him closer in an attempt to quiet him.

"He's probably hungry," Alfdis advised her. "Give him some milk, but be quick, you're not done yet."

Loki frowned. She was already topless, so she let Slepnir fumble for her breast with only a little help. "What do you mean?"

"Gods, this _is_ your first child."

* * *

As it turned out, the baby was not the only thing that came out during labor.

Loki silently swore that she was never doing this again.

Ever.

* * *

During the first few years, Loki was very glad she didn't need as much sleep as humans did, because she was sure she'd have gone mad for lack of it otherwise.

Slepnir was, to say the least, not a restful baby. The only way she could get him to sleep was by letting him sleep with her, but she was worried she'd roll over onto him in her sleep or something else horrible, so even when he slept through the night she didn't get much.

"You," Loki told him, "are going to ruin me. I don't even want to think about how I'm going to explain why I've been away so long."

Slepnir burbled back at her, one hand firmly clutching the fabric of her tunic and getting it somewhat damp, since it had been in his mouth before he'd grabbed on.

"I'm telling the truth." Loki walked around, talking absentmindedly to Slepnir, who was a very good audience as he couldn't talk back yet. "I'll have to think of _something._ Odin will know most of it's a lie," she admitted to herself. Her brother was just as perceptive as she was. "You're a troublemaker and you can't even walk yet."

Slepnir said something in baby-talk that probably meant _Good, I like trouble._

"Who knows what they're going to think of you," Loki mused. Odin had spent a _very_ long time teasing Loki for her supposed 'celibacy', since she'd had no children to speak of while Odin had Thor and Baldr and all the little bastard gods or demigods here and there. "Probably tell me that it's about time."

Odin would be thrilled, for sure, or at least congratulate her and then ask who the mother was. Loki snorted to herself. The _mother._ She could probably get away with claiming half-human parentage - she'd be away long enough for the only candidates to be dead or nearing it.

Loki walked, and Slepnir drowsed cradled in her arms, and she let herself enjoy the clean-baby smell and the warmth and the lack of any of the usual chaos Asgard (barely) contained.

* * *

"Maaaaaaaaaaaa."

Loki ticked Slepnir's stomach, making him squeal with delight. "Da."

"Ma," Slepnir said stubbornly. Loki no longer having breasts, since Slepnir had stopped breastfeeding, did not deter him in the least from calling Loki 'ma'. He hadn't gotten a handle on 'mother' or 'father' - or very many other words, to be honest - so 'ma' or 'da' it was.

"Da."

"Ma!" Slepnir kicked excitedly and nearly unbalanced himself, tilting sideways before Loki managed to catch him and prop him back up into a sitting position.

"Well, you've certainly got my stubbornness."

Slepnir said something which involved a lot of sticking his tongue out at Loki and might have been an attempt to parrot the sentence back to him.

"Oh, really?"

"Enh," Slepnir said agreeably, and then stuffed his hand back in his mouth to suck on.

"You are going to make your fingers so wrinkly they stay like that forever," Loki informed him. Slepnir seemed unbothered by the vague threat. "I'm telling the truth, for once," he continued. "Little wrinkly fingertips until you grow as old as I am."

"Okay."

"You little smart mouth."

* * *

Once he started walking, Slepnir was a bit of a disaster.

"Careful!" Loki narrowly averted Slepnir's collision with the door for the third time that morning. Slepnir giggled, wriggling until Loki let go of him again. "Watch where you're going-"

Slepnir tried to walk forward again and this time, he did hit the door. He sat down with a thump, looking confused. "Ow," he said, but he didn't look like he was in very much pain.

"For the last time, you can't walk through solid objects."

Slepnir stared at the door like he couldn't believe it had just done that to him. He looked up at Loki, pointing at it. "Door," he complained.

"Yes, that's a door."

"In there," Slepnir said insistently.

Loki opened the door with a flick of his fingers. "What's in there?"

Slepnir used Loki's pants to hoist himself back to his feet, then toddled through the doorway contentedly.

"Don't trip over anything," Loki called, and then sighed as there was a thump from the other room. "Maybe that was too much to ask for."

* * *

"Why don' I have a dad?"

"Of course you have a dad, how do you think I had you?"

Slepnir made a face. "He isn't _here._ "

"Ah." Loki raised his eyebrows. "Are you asking if I know where he is, or why isn't he here?"

"Both." Slepnir was a small, stubborn godling, even at an age where he could easily have been mistaken for a four-year-old, and he looked up at Loki expectantly. "Why didn't he stay?"

"Because he didn't know I had you," Loki said. "I didn't either, at first."

"Weren't you married?"

"Oh, Norns, no," Loki scoffed, and then paused at Slepnir's disappointed expression. Maybe that had been the wrong thing to say. "You know I prefer looking like this, anyway. It would have been odd for an Ás-"

"Ás? He was _Æsir_?" Slepnir interrupted, eyes wide.

"Yes," Loki said patiently, "and it would have been weird for someone he called his wife to go about looking like a man all the time, wouldn't it have?"

"But you can look like a woman."

"I don't prefer it, and I certainly wouldn't change myself just to be acceptable to Asgardian society." Loki replied. "Remember that, Slepnir. Do things for yourself and no one else."

"You're changing the topic," Slepnir complained. "Who _was_ he?"

"He was just a man I met." Albeit a very handsome one, for an Ás. Loki shrugged. "I never found out much about him."

Slepnir's obvious disappointment made him wish he had more to offer.

"What was his name?" Slepnir asked after a moment.

"Auðunar." Loki had never found out his last name, not that he'd particularly wanted to know it.

"...Did you mean to get me?"

"No," Loki admitted. He reached out to tousle Slepnir's hair. "Doesn't mean I don't love you, though."

"...Okay." Slepnir reached up for Loki, a silent question.

Loki smiled and picked him up.

Slepnir had been worth it.

* * *

 **Baby Slepnir :) I know at the end it seems like he can suddenly talk really well, but picture him speaking in a little-kid voice. It's been a while but he hasn't gotten that much older.**


	8. Chapter 8

**So I found this AU in a notebook that I picked up looking for something else I'd written and hot damn, I dunno why I haven't typed this up before.**

 **Oh yeah, I forgot about it.**

 **It only went up to the beginning of third year, so anything past that I'm just throwing out there. Just to let you know.**

 **Partially inspired by 'and the fates sing (hold on, son)' by Bambieyes1234, mostly in terms of writing style. I would absolutely check that story out if you like this.  
**

 **Extreme AU for the Accidental Vessel, I guess? Enjoy!**

* * *

Harry Potter is born on a night that no one wants to him to be born on.

Albus Dumbledore is in the lobby of the Muggle hospital Lily had insisted on giving birth in. His eyes are on the clock. It has been several hours. He is hoping for just one hour more.

He is not a cruel man.

One hour more, and they will be half an hour into August. The seventh month is dying, and two babies are being born.

If Albus Dumbledore could be in two places at once, he would also be at St. Mungo's with the Longbottoms. James Potter had asked him to be here, and so here he came.

In the delivery room, Lily wails and pushes when they tell her to.

She knows what she is bringing this baby into, and she knows that she is powerless to stop it.

The nurses think the tears are from the pain.

Harry Potter is born a second before the stroke of midnight on the dying day of the seventh month.

Anyone who knows that there is anything unusual about him thinks of the prophecy.

* * *

Gabriel corners Coyote in a bar in Wyoming and tells him, _I'm going to die._

Coyote laughs and buys another round of drinks.

Gabriel is gone before they get to the table.

The Morrígan does not trust him, and he doesn't really trust any of them not to mess with him. Wisakedjak is too irresponsible for Gabriel to think he'd even try to do it right. Raven will be sabotaged by Coyote no matter what. Anansi will refuse. Hermes...

No. Gabriel won't burden him with this.

He cannot trust anyone in Asgard - has not for a long time - and it's only in a state of panic that the idea even crosses his mind.

Kali, when he comes, listens and asks, _When?_

He had not meant to see it.

Gabriel constantly popped through time. For laughs, to do things he couldn't have done otherwise, just because he _could._ He had not meant to end up in the dingy motel, his own vessel rotting on the floor and spread wings burned into the floor.

Gabriel stumbled. Threw himself back into time. Went to Coyote in a panic.

Kali surprises him when she kisses him, roughly, and whispers _I've kept your secrets before, Gabriel._

Gabriel clutches at her, because she is the closest thing he has to hold on to, and cannot muster his voice to ask how she knows.

Kali does not trust him, but she might just love him still. Gabriel does not know if he loves her. Once - long ago - he'd been sure that he had.

Luckily, Kali is not asking for his love.

He is grateful.

Here is someone who knows him.

Here is someone who can help.

He tells Kali what she needs, and they tell each other what to do. She is not doing this out of kindness. At the moment, Gabriel does not care how many times over he will owe her for this favor.

In1981, gods stop hearing from Loki.

In 1981, younger Tricksters are aware of a subtle power shift.

In 1981, no angel noticed when Gabriel vanished.

* * *

Lily sobs, when she hears the shouted curse from downstairs, the thud of something as heavy as a person hitting the floor. She does not try to fool herself and pretend that it is who she hopes it is, and not who she has always feared it will be.

She is living in a war zone. She knows the risks. That does not mean she will accept them quietly.

Her barricade of boxes in front of the door will not last long. The boxes they'd never got around to moving, when they'd unpacked all the supplies for Harry's nursery, laughing and playing and allowing themselves to forget the dangers.

Harry, in his crib, is not crying. He doesn't understand. Lily moves to the crib desperately, bending over the bars to hug him.

"I love you," she whispers, tears staining the blue onesie James had bought for him, and hopes Harry will remember these words, the warmth of her arms around him.

She will not flee.

Bravery is never any less for the tears of the brave one.

"Stand aside-"

"Not Harry, please-"

"You foolish girl, stand aside-"

"Please, not him-"

Lily Evans falls.

* * *

 _Spare her,_ pleaded Severus Snape, and Voldemort agreed not to harm the Muggle girl.

She was not worth killing, anyway.

* * *

A magical contract, once broken, has devastating consequences.

Voldemort falls.

Harry lives.

The magical world calls it a miracle and celebrates.

No one stops to think what happens to Harry afterwards.

* * *

There are strange people in Harry's life.

The Dursleys are normal, too normal, _stiflingly_ normal. Harry takes every bit of strangeness he can find.

There is a surprising amount of it.

A substitute teacher, who trades history lessons for mythology and stories of a cunning trickster god, and whose eyes linger on Harry a little longer than on everyone else. A stranger, darker man who approaches him later and seems taken aback by his existence, and vaguely guilty about something Harry doesn't understand. A woman in a bright, emerald green cloak who enthusiastically shakes his hand, and the man in the purple top hat.

He's usually shut away in his cupboard after these incidents, if the Dursleys find out about it or witness it. Harry doesn't mind it as much, because at least for a little his life was more interesting than usual.

He turns eleven, and gets the best birthday present _ever._

He meets Ron on the train and instantly likes this boy, once of the first truly friendly people he's ever met.

Ron mentions Slytherin in passing, mentions evil wizards and black magic.

Harry goes under the Hat, and when he's told _Slytherin,_ he thinks, _no. I don't want that reputation. I want people to like me._

 _Very well,_ says the Hat, _better be Gryffindor..._

Gryffindor is reds and golds and loud, friendly faces, and his things are already at the end of one of the beds.

* * *

Harry dislikes Snape. He is cruel without reason, picking on anyone who isn't a Slytherin and especially the Gryffindors.

Something inside him says _bully,_ and Harry aches for Snape to be taken to task for his behavior.

* * *

When Harry's first flying lesson comes around and he shoots into the air after Malfoy, something inside him shouts _Yes!_

He absolutely belongs up here, feet not touching the ground, taking prats down a peg or two-

Harry doesn't realize how strange it was, that it felt so right to one-up Malfoy, but even Hermione reminding him of the broken rules can't put a dent in the euphoria of winning.

He's appointed to the Quidditch team, and Harry is full of a high-strung nervous excitement at the knowledge that he will be able to to something that involves flying _the whole time._

Some things cannot be erased.

Some things run in blood, to the very core of someone's self, and stay there no matter what happens to them.

Harry knows none of this, of course.

That is the whole point.

* * *

Harry hears about the Philosopher's Stone, of the idea of it falling into Voldemort's hands, and thinks, _that can't happen._

He tells Ron and Hermione. They insist on coming with him.

He doesn't tell them about the second thought, which was, _It would probably be better with me._

He takes them with him.

Harry is eleven, and doesn't know any better than to think beyond what is obviously wrong.

He sees how Quirrel burns under his touch, in the deepest part of the hidden chamber, and goes straight for the face.

Dumbledore does not mention this when he talks to Harry in the Hospital Wing.

He talks about love and sacrifice, and tells Harry nothing at all.

* * *

Harry is ignored all summer, and if Dobby hadn't admitted to blocking his letters there might have been a part of Harry that was tempted not to return. It would have served them right, if they had ignored him, if he simply didn't come back. If the wizarding world lost their savior.

But staying means the Dursleys, year-round. Harry refuses. Dobby drops a cake on the guest's head. Harry is locked behind bars.

Ron comes to get him.

Harry is fiercely grateful. Being behind literal bars with no way out had burned at him in a way that felt deeply personal. Escaping with the Weasleys turns gratefulness into an odd kind of happiness that is not just because he's back in the sky.

Mrs. Weasley yells at Ron and the twins, and reassures Harry every other sentence. Having such a caring figure abruptly enter his life is a change. Harry thinks it's a good one.

This is what a family is like. The Weasleys unconditionally fold Harry into their little group, like he's been with them all their life. For a second, Harry is jealous of Ron and how normal this is for his friend.

Ron grins at him across the table. Harry grins back.

* * *

There is blood painted on the walls, people still and frozen without any hint of ice. People whisper in the hallways and call Harry Slytherin's Heir.

They find the diary.

It screams wrongness at Harry, so much so that he refuses to touch it. Ron gingerly picks it up.

Ron talks to Tom Riddle. Ron gets scared. Ron's things get ransacked and the diary stolen before they can bring it to any of the teachers.

They know another Gryffindor has the diary. They don't know who.

People keep getting petrified. Dumbledore is removed from the school. Hagrid is arrested for something he didn't. Ron and Harry enter the forest on a vague hint in search of answers while Hermione lies in the Hospital wing.

Harry nearly wanders away from the spiders they're following more than once. Ron keeps a tight grip on his hand.

Harry cannot explain the pull he feels, to be somewhere much deeper elsewhere in the Forest.

* * *

Ginny Weasley is pale and cold at one end of the chamber. Tom Riddle manifests himself. Harry lets the spirit monologue while he tries to think of a plan.

A lot of the time, Harry forgets that he is just as young and vulnerable as the people he is trying to protect.

He kills the Basilisk and nearly kills himself doing so. Ginny wakes up to the sight of far, far too much blood and a phoenix crying healing tears over Harry where he's sprawled on the floor.

They hold each other up, with Fawkes's help, on the way out.

Harry does his best not to wince when Mrs. Weasley tearfully hugs him.

Exams are cancelled. People are de-petrified. Hermione is thrilled but (to Harry's relief) does not try to hug him.

They exchange letters all summer. This time, no one steals them before they arrive.

(Harry had enough in him for one more trick, and besides, Dobby did technically try to help him).

* * *

Sirius Black escapes.

Harry does not understand the significance of this until he finds himself on the Knight Bus with an overly talkative conductor.

The Minister finds him at the Leaky Cauldron and forgives the magical incident at the Dursley's without a fuss. Harry finds someone who will perform color-change charms on him so it's harder to recognize him as Harry Potter, and gets the full story about Black from a man at the ice-cream parlor.

Betrayal.

Harry is viciously angry that night, and then more coldly contemplative the next.

No one expects him to know this.

Sirius Black will be expecting a naïve thirteen-year-old.

Harry will be neither unprepared nor ignorant when Black gets to him.

* * *

The Hogwarts Express stops early. The windows frost over.

The Dementors come.

Harry is struck unconscious, the echo of a scream in his ears.

When he wakes, his friends are staring at him, pale-faced. He doesn't understand any more than they do.

* * *

Quidditch is still fun, thrilling in the chase the Seeker takes part in, but less so when the Dementors make him faint while he's five hundred feet off the ground. Even less so when he wakes up in the Hospital wing to find his broom smashed to bits.

Harry feels oddly grounded - in both senses of the word. He can't fly without his Nimbus, one of the first gifts he'd ever been given.

It feels partly like spite that motivates him to go to Lupin. Lupin knows the charm to repel Dementors, and Harry's going to learn it or, well, not die trying, but do something similarly dramatic.

Lupin agrees. It doesn't go well, even if Lupin does his best to encourage Harry. He can't get a hand of this _simple_ spell.

 _It's not an easy thing to master,_ Lupin says, and Harry thinks, _I can do things no one else could dream of._

He doesn't know where the thought comes from.

But he did survive a killing curse. A Patronus shouldn't be beyond his abilities.

* * *

Harry receives a Firebolt.

The thought of being in the air again practically makes him float - and then McGonagall confiscates it and he thuds right back down to the ground. When he finds it's _Hermione_ who told McGonagall that stings, personal, like she's taken something irreplaceable from him.

Even the impending threat of Buckbeak's execution isn't quite enough to pull the three of them back together. It feels like a long while before they all end up in Hagrid's hut to console him, and Hermione discovers Scabbers with a shriek.

They have to run to get out before the Ministry officials arrive. From there Harry feels like he's falling from one event into the next, barely any time to actually register what's happening, until they're in the Shrieking Shack and Sirius Black is at the point of his wand.

And he hesitates.

He can't do it, and he feels irrationally angry with himself for that.

(Of course, after everything's explained properly, he's just relieved).

* * *

Lupin is fired, unfairly, and Harry thinks that it shouldn't matter that he's a werewolf.

What people are doesn't matter, but what kind of person (or being) they are does.

* * *

Ron invites him to the Quidditch World Cup.

It's _fantastic,_ only tempered by the fact that Harry wishes he could be in the air himself, because there's so much _space_ that isn't just the area above the field (brooms, even a Firebolt, could only go so high before it got dangerous).

The afterparty, of sorts, is not nearly so fun.

Harry looses his wand and a part of him flat-out blanks in panic, because it's _his wand._ How is he supposed to do magic without it?

It is retrieved from the house elf, who is sacked before their eyes. Crouch seems too nervous, but Harry notices it only peripherally. He is not sure what to think of the green mark hovering in the sky over their heads.

* * *

Harry is entered into the Tournament. Ron, one of the only two people he could turn to, refuses to speak to him.

Harry is left to his own-overly quiet mind to panic about the first task, and seethe over the betrayal.

Loyalty is not to be treated so lightly.

* * *

He thinks, once, _I wonder if whoever makes these tasks up is trying to kill us._

It's not as funny when he says it out loud to Hermione.

* * *

It's only the fact that something has felt off enough to make Harry feel ill that lets him realize what's going to happen before it does.

He tackles Cedric to the ground, the green curse rocketing over their heads. The next three miss as well, the two of them scrambling in a zigzag and ducking for cover behind tombstones.

Cedric gets knocked out. Harry lunges for him and is intercepted halfway there.

* * *

Voldemort rises.

Cedric is killed.

Harry flees.

* * *

That summer blurs together in a haze of fury and nightmares. Harry has been cut off from _everyone,_ and it doesn't help when they come to get him only after he's nearly killed and expelled.

Hermione and Ron were with the Order the _whole time._

They could have told him _something._

Harry very nearly shouts his way through the trial in an attempt to actually be heard, until Dumbledore shows up (managing to not look at him a single time).

Harry sulks his way through most of the year. All of Hogwarts - all of the wizarding world, it seems like - has turned against him.

At least he's got Hermione and Ron.

* * *

Hermione and Ron, while they're at school, can't do much about the fact that Umbridge is a controlling, horrible woman.

Harry can't, either, and he _hates_ it.

The year is miserable, and Harry speaks out in Umbridge's classes because _that's all he can do,_ and he's pretty sure her detentions cross some sort of legal line but who can he go to, who can he trust will actually help?

After that summer, is it really surprising that the answer is no one?

* * *

Umbridge's control over the school expands so slowly that it seems like no time at all before she's everywhere, Education Decrees displayed on the wall and Malfoy utterly unbearable with the silver _I_ pinned to his robes.

Hermione and Ron are the ones who come up with the idea - Ron stubbornly insists that it was just Hermione's idea. A defense club, meeting in secret, to learn all the things Umbridge won't teach them.

Harry doesn't think he's a teacher, but he falls surprisingly easily into the role, telling people what they're doing wrong and how to do it right, controlling the multitude of students and strolling around to make sure everything's going smoothly.

It does, until it doesn't, but that happens later.

More specifically, after Harry dreams about attacking Mr. Weasley and wakes up to find that it had actually happened.

The Weasleys, white-faced and full of worry, hurry him back to Grimmauld Place with them. Harry doesn't tell anyone what's going on in his head, the way the dream set him off kilter and the way he was so, so certain that _he'd done it._

Hermione tells him he couldn't possibly have gotten out of the school and back so fast. Harry thinks she'd have debunked the snake part, too, if she knew about it.

He doesn't tell her about the snake, or the way it feels (chillingly) quite easily within the realms of possibility.

* * *

They visit Mr. Weasley at the hospital. He seems to be recovering admirably fast.

The conversation they overhear, thanks to Fred and George, makes Harry isolate himself until Ginny comes along to knock some sense into him, _I've been possessed too you know, you could have thought to ask me._

Harry isn't possessed.

It's more reassuring than he'd thought it would be.

* * *

The DA goes well, unnoticed until it isn't anymore.

Harry doesn't know whether to be impressed or a little scared by the enchantment Hermione had put on the sign-up sheet.

He goes for both.

* * *

Umbridge being appointed Headmistress is a definite downside to the situation.

So is the club being disbanded, and Dumbledore leaving the school completely.

Luckily, Fred and George have a solution.

The fireworks are really just the thing that everyone wanted.

Everyone except Umbridge, that is (and maybe Filch), though she certainly deserved it.

* * *

Harry is launched into a panic by the mere _thought_ that Sirius might die.

He doesn't understand why Hermione hesitates, why she and Ron are so nervous, he _saw_ it, and it launches them into one thing after another until he and Hermione are in the Forbidden Forest and they've just seen Umbridge get carried off by centaurs and Harry, for some unfathomable reason even he can't trace, starts running.

He doesn't know why he needs desperately to be somewhere, but he _does,_ and something in him knows where that place is even if he's still at sea in all of this.

But _Sirius-_

Whatever is pulling him deeper into the forest flares impatiently, in the back of his mind. Harry keeps running.

He can hear Hermione crashing through the underbrush behind him. She's shouting something, but Harry doesn't even hear it, the tug towards _something_ he doesn't understand blurring his other senses.

The Forest gets more claustrophobically choked with thorny vines and inconveniently jutting undergrowth around him. Harry barely notices. Hermione's shouts get fainter, but never so far away that they vanish completely.

There's a tree, looming over him, the canopy arching above anything and everything else in the Forest. There's a cacophony of bright green and a riot of colorful flowers around it, and Harry stumbles over a tree root and puts his hand on the tree to steady himself.

* * *

When Gabriel made himself Fall, Kali hid what remained of the angel where he was sure to find it. When he was ready - when he could be sure that he'd changed whatever led to his death - she'd help him find it again.

No plan is perfect.

Gabriel has always been curious.

* * *

Gabriel gasps in a breath, distantly aware that he should, and Hermione is next to him, shouting in increasingly worried tones and he stumbles back, information still settling into place in his head and Grace fluctuating and throwing up a wind around them. There's so much _noise_ in his head, the background chatter of siblings he'd long ago left abandoned, and he cuts himself away from that connection shakily.

 _Harry, what-_

 _We have to go!_

Hermione shouts at him to _explain,_ but Sirius might be _dying._

* * *

Gabriel does several impossible things he knows he'll have to explain later, but fuck it, of _course_ he was going to tell them anyway.

They're his friends.

* * *

 _Not him,_ Gabriel pleads, when he manages to suspend time and make enough ruckus that Death himself shows up. _You can take any one of the tainted ones, but don't touch him.  
_

 _Gabriel,_ Death says. _My, my. This is a surprise._

He doesn't take anybody. Bellatrix Lestrage dies in Sirius's place - impossible thing #5.

He's going to have a _lot_ of explaining to do when the battle finally ends.

* * *

 _I hid myself,_ Harry explains, later, in Dumbledore's office, surrounded by astonished friends and Order members. _With a little help. I thought I could - change what I saw was going to happen._

He doesn't know if it's worked.

Nobody asks what sort of creature hides themselves has human. Maybe it doesn't cross any of their minds. Harry appreciates that.


	9. Angie

**Lil ficlet I keep coming back to. AU of the Accidental Vessel - what if Angrbo** **ða, the kids' mother, hadn't died? Mostly I think this came about because of lingering guilt over the fact that I'd killed her offscreen, in a sense, to avoid having to deal with why she'd never appeared/been alluded to before.**

 **Don't kill the ladies off for manpain, guys. I keep feeling like that's what I did.  
**

 **For the purposes of the story, assume Angrboða knows about the whole Gabriel thing. I know how it would have played out but that is another very dramatic story I'm saving for later.**

* * *

The note had been mysterious and vague, but signed with a familiar signature. Gabriel would have gone just to figure out what the note-sender meant, but the signature meant he went down to Hogsmeade as specified just to figure out how on Earth she'd gotten to Hogsmeade in the first place.

"Surprise," said a voice behind him, and Gabriel whirled around.

"Angie!" He couldn't help it - he hugged her as hard as he could. "What are you - you look like you're fifteen!"

"I could say the same to _you,_ " Angrboða said, from over his head. She pushed at Gabriel's shoulders, and he reluctantly let go. "What have _you_ been doing?"

"New vessel," Gabriel said. "Long story. How did you-"

"I'll tell you later," she said. She looked almost exactly his vessel's current age, hair braided up in a style he hadn't seen her wear since just after they'd married. Her dress was several decades out of date, and wouldn't have looked out of place in a movie adaption of the Great Gatsby, but it suited her, which Gabriel thought was the important thing. He _had_ seen her wear that recently. She was very attached to the flapper era.

"You look nice." She might have actually been around his height. Was he taller, or was she shorter?

"Thank you. This dress's a newer fashion than those robes," she commented teasingly, linking her hand with his. "Why don't you tell me what I'm going into on the way up to this dance?"

"At the end of tonight," Gabriel said, walking with her back up the path to the castle, "you're going to tell me how you knew this was going on."

"You'll find out eventually," Angrboða said, with a smile. "I can promise that."

"Aw, no fair."

"You're the one who always said a challenge makes things interesting."

Gabriel pouted, but he was too thrilled to have her there to put any heart into it. "Will you pinky-promise to tell me?"

Angrboða rolled her eyes and tugged at his hand. "We're going to be late to this dance of yours."

"That's not an answer."

"I didn't mean for it to be." She smiled slyly over her shoulder. "Are we dancing tonight, or not?"

* * *

The two of them got a _lot_ of curious looks.

"I feel a bit out of place," Angrboða murmured in Gabriel's ear, staring back at a pair of Gryffindor girls who hastily looked away.

"Perish the thought," Gabriel said, as theatrically as possible without being too loud. "Besides, there are three school's worth of students, ish. Everyone will assume you're from somewhere else."

Hermione, up at the front of the line, kept darting looks at him. Gabriel waved at her the next time she glanced over her shoulder.

"Friend of yours?" Angrboða asked.

"Yeah, she's nice. A little intense about some things."

The doors swung open. Angrboða looped her arm around Gabriel's, and they followed the other pairs of champions in.

The hall was decorated like a fairytale castle of ice. Gabriel could tell Angrboða loved it even without looking at her. The floor itself was smooth and white, but magically not at all slippery.

When the band struck up the tune, it was almost too good to be true. They both stared for a moment, before remembering to begin dancing.

"Is this a wizard song, too?" Angrboða asked. Her hand at Gabriel's shoulder was almost distracting, he hadn't seen her in so long. Too long. _Never again,_ he thought firmly.

"It must be," he answered aloud.

"Wonders never cease." Their feet moved in an easy, memorized pattern. It had been ages since he'd heard this song. It felt like an equally long time since he'd danced with her.

Gabriel lifted Angrboða more easily than he usually did at the crescendo of music, sliding into a proper waltz. "When _was_ the last time we danced to this?"

"Mm," Angrboða said, "1820?"

"No, it had to be later than that," Gabriel laughed. "Eighteen _twenty?_ Regency England - well, maybe."

Angrboða shrugged. Her skirt spun out as they twirled, and Gabriel tightened his hand on her waist in preparation for some of the more twirl-y moves. There was a lot of lifting-and-spinning for this song.

Angrboða's hair flew out each time they spun, settling into a haphazard pile of curls dripping over her shoulder. Gabriel could almost imagine they were back in some grand ballroom, some court or fancy affair they weren't technically invited to.

"You look lost in your thoughts," Angrboða said.

"I'm admiring the view," Gabriel said, truthfully, and it was worth it to see her eyes crinkle up in a smile.

Gabriel's foot was very nearly stepped on during the next turn. He avoided it neatly, both hands going to Angrboða's waist in preparation. They were probably the best dancers there, not to be rude to any students. It was just that his wife happened to like dancing a lot.

Her eyes were sparkling now, enjoying a blast from the past in such an unfamiliar place. The Durmstrang students wore heavy capes that swirled out like her skirt and made Gabriel wish he was in more familiar clothing. Capes would have been _great._

The finale ramped up both the volume and the pace. Gabriel didn't miss a step, though Angrboða still managed to make him look a step behind. She was wearing a bracelet that jangled with every movement. Gabriel was pleased to recognize it as one he'd bought her. The students around them barely warranted his attention.

They slowed dramatically for the last crescendo before throwing themselves back into a flurry of movement, and Gabriel was glad that he remembered every bit of the dance, even with the time that had passed and the complicated, constantly changing pace. He'd hate to look like a fool in front of her.

He'd missed this, honestly. Angrboða mostly, but this, too.

He was occupied with the smile on Angrboða's face, the final few notes, the slow pace to the trumpet blare that didn't last nearly long enough before it faded into crystalline piano notes.

They stayed in position for a heartbeat after the song ended, until the very last note died out.

"We should sit down," Angrboða said.

"We'll have to share a table with other people," Gabriel reminded her.

"Suddenly I'm not hungry. Let's go outside."

They made their way through the crowd as the band struck up a lighthearted reel, less heavy on the trumpets than the last had been. It was easy enough to sneak past groups of excited students, especially when most of them at this point had been lured to the dance floor. The gardens were deserted, some bugs buzzing around, a few birds calling to each other from hidden spots in trees, but no students.

There was something like a small maze, near the center. Gabriel gestured, and the entrance filled itself in with more hedge so that it became a wall.

"You said you were low on power." Angrboða affectionately slapped his shoulder.

"I have enough for that," Gabriel lied. He twisted his hand into Angrboða's, both of them very much in the other's space. "Besides, we came out here for privacy, didn't we?"

Angrboða's mouth was curved into a small smile. "We did," she said, and kissed him.

It was nice, Gabriel reflected, actually being the same height as her. No more tiptoe kisses. He brought his free hand up to cup her face, bending backwards slightly under Angrboða's eagerness.

"You owe me a _lot_ of those," Angrboða whispered against his lips when they'd finished.

"Gladly," Gabriel said, and then (because he could) pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"What was that for?"

"I couldn't resist, you're so much _shorter._ "

Angrboða laughed. "Of course that's what you'd like the most about this." She linked her hands behind his back, which unfortunately meant he couldn't hold either of them. "I think we may have left too early. I'm still in the mood for dancing."

"I'm sure we can rustle something up." Gabriel put a hand on her shoulder, an inversion of their usual positions. "What was that one you always liked...?"

He started humming. Angrboða looked blank for a moment before she recognized it.

"Another waltz?" She teased. Gabriel kept humming through his grin, swaying slightly.

Angrboða recognized where she was supposed to start dancing, because she did as soon as Gabriel reached it. The miniature maze was silent except for them and the noise of grass being squished under their feet. It was a far cry from the veritable palace they'd left inside, but that didn't matter.

It was a sad kind of song, despite not having any words. Gabriel might not have bothered to remember it if Angrboða hadn't liked it so much while it was popular.

"I can't believe you remember this," Angrboða said, leaning against him. Gabriel would have made a smart remark about how he never forgot anything, except that would require him to stop humming.

He _had_ nearly forgotten what a short song it was. They'd barely left a mark in the grass when it wound down, besides a few rapidly-vanishing footprints where it had been compressed under their weight.

"When was that from," Angrboða mused, "Last century?"

"Sometime then," Gabriel said. "It was a modern revival of some waltz, wasn't it?"

Angrboða nodded, paused, and said, "I bet I could still pick you up like this."

Gabriel spread his arms in invitation, not questioning where the thought had come from. Angrboða hooked one arm under his knees and Gabriel braced his own around her shoulders before she swept him off his feet.

"Nice," Angrboða declared, and then dumped him on a conveniently placed wooden bench.

" _Ow,_ " Gabriel said, laughing too hard to sound sufficiently injured. "Was that necessary?"

"Your butt's not _that_ nice," Angrboða informed him, sitting down next to him.

"You like it."

"True."

He was the one who leaned in this time, tugging at one of her braids to pull her in as well. Kissing Angrboða was something he never got tired of. Gabriel would freely admit to a huge bias, but hey, he was allowed to have an opinion.

"I don't mind this vessel," Angrboða said when she pulled away, their faces still very close together.

"It grows on you," Gabriel replied, "but your seal of approval does matter. How much liking is 'not minding it'?"

"It means I'll tolerate it." Angrboða picked up his left hand. "The lack of a ring is a definite downside."

"I didn't lose it," Gabriel said. He knew exactly where it was - still on the ring finger of his last vessel. "I just - can't get to it right now."

Angrboða gave him a long look, leaning back a little further. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Promise," Gabriel said, and he meant it. He brought their hands, still entwined, up to press a kiss to her knuckles. "Getting better everyday."

"You had better be," she said. "I'm not the only one who misses you." Slightly reproachfully, she added, "you missed Hel's birthday."

"Damn," Gabriel said. "When was that? I thought it wasn't for another year." Gods only celebrated birthdays once a decade; otherwise it would have been like a human celebrating every month. Repetitive, which would take all the fun and excitement out of it.

"A year or so ago."

"Damn," Gabriel repeated, spirits sinking.

"She didn't mind," Angrboða said, obviously lying. "I told them what you told me."

Gabriel sighed, leaning against the back of the bench. He was sitting sideways, which made it a little awkward.

Angrboða tugged on their joined hands so that he slid over to lean on her. "If you think any of them are going to blame you for this, we're going to need to have words," she said, businesslike. "They _know_ you'd never miss that if you could help it. I mean, it's not like you're their father who they've known their entire lives or anything."

"Alright," Gabriel said, "I get it." But Angrboða had succeeded in cheering him up a little.

"And before I forget," Angrboða added, drawing a folded envelope out of a pocket that probably hadn't been on the dress originally, "this is for you, from them."

Gabriel took it. It was barely folded, and thick, which spoke of multiple letters inside. "I'll read it later," he said, tucking it into a pocket in his robes. "I'd rather concentrate on you for now."

* * *

 **That's really as far as I ever got. Basically what happened is when Gabriel backtracked through time to go get his vessel, he went back to Angrboða for help fairly soon, so future-him was the one who helped** **Angrboða get there. If that makes sense.  
**

 **If you want to re-read with a soundtrack, the song they dance to is 'Mahoney's Debut' from Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium (go for the official soundtrack version). The one Gabriel hums is 'Fireside Dance' from Oz the Great and Powerful (which I have never seen, but I like that track).**


	10. Yet Another Alternate Meeting, Etc

**Another one for the myriad AUs I've created for my own story! I cannot stop thinking of different ways to put Gabriel and Harry together, it's ridiculous, but I must share.**

 **Again, this is from my journals (mostly) so it's a little disjointed and might end abruptly. The beginning takes place in the graveyard scene from Goblet of Fire, btw!  
**

* * *

 _"There is another power stirring..."_

 _"My Lord?"_

 _"I would not expect you to sense it...something vast and powerful lies at my fingertips, Wormtail. We must prepare."_

Harry jolted upright in bed, sweaty, a headache building in his forehead.

That wasn't good.

* * *

Harry's heart was pounding in his ears. Voldemort was back, and he had Harry trapped - what else did he want?

Pettigrew was moving around, gathering things Harry couldn't see. He flicked his wand, and a fire bloomed at the edge of Harry's vision.

The very ground underneath them seemed to groan and bend like the universe was - for a second - bent out of shape. It ended as quickly as it had started, but it felt like some ancient thing was yawning open under Harry's feet-

 _This is new._

Harry would have startled n surprise, but he felt frozen. The entire graveyard seemed to have been struck with some kind of curse. It was too quiet. Nothing - and nobody - moved, Voldemort and the robed Death Eaters standing around like some kind of horror movie that had been paused in the middle of a scene.

What had Voldemort done?

 _He wanted me._ The voice vibrated through Harry down to his bones. It was like someone was talking directly into his mind. Harry, petrified and afraid, managed to be vaguely puzzled by the fact that it had an American accent. He was still mostly terrified.

 _Aw, don't be like that. I wouldn't give him a thing._

What? How did - what kind of thing had Voldemort summoned?

 _Would you believe me if I said I didn't want to hurt you?_

Harry would have snorted, if he had been able to move. He wasn't an idiot.

He got a distinctly amused impression, from whatever it was that was talking to him, and for a moment he almost thought it was _him_ feeling amused. It was incredibly unsettling.

 _I wonder if I could ask a favor._

The mysterious voice wanted to ask him for a favor. Harry reflexively rebelled against the idea, memories of Ginny and the memory of Tom Riddle flashing through his mind.

 _Listen,_ the voice said, and it wasn't as though Harry could do much else. There was a serious edge to it, though, a forceful command, and Harry's attention sharpened almost unconsciously. _I can't stop him from calling me here. It's a miracle I've managed to pause things for so long already. But if I don't have a vessel, it won't matter what I think, none of you will be around long enough to appreciate my intentions._

That sounded ominous. But not, strangely, enough, like a threat - more like a statement of fact.

'Vessel' didn't sound like a threat either, but it didn't sound very nice either. Harry tried to jerk away, which was unsuccessful, because he a) couldn't move and b) had no idea which direction the voice was coming from.

 _Hey, I get one, no one gets hurt. Not even the guy who volunteers._ There was a note of urgency in the voice. _I can't control the effect I have without one. I'm asking politely, kid, I can't do anything unless you agree._

That sounded fake. What kind of thing that possessed people asked permission first?

He could at least choose one of the Death Eaters. _They_ deserved possessing.

 _You're the only one here who'll last long enough. I won't be able to ignore that summoning for much longer,_ the voice warned, and there was a definite note of strain in it now. _What's your answer?_

Harry wasn't stupid, but he didn't want to die-

 _Okay._ Fine. He'd probably regret this.

The world unfroze. Harry didn't notice; it felt like a comet was surging into his body, lighting him up from the inside. He would have gasped, but his body didn't seem to be responding to him anymore.

Dazedly, he saw that everyone was looking at him. He felt oddly detached, like he was watching a movie of himself doing things, but from his own perspective.

"At last," Voldemort said, with an air of great satisfaction.

"The fuck does that mean," Harry felt himself say, in an American accent.

Voldemort looked taken aback. The Death Eaters stayed silent behind their masks. Harry felt himself - the voice, except it wasn't just a voice anymore - snap his fingers. The rope binding him to the tombstone fell away, and the thing controlling his body stepped down, sticking Harry's hands into his pockets.

 _Relax,_ the American voice said, in the same way it had before - straight into Harry's mind, except now it was already inside - warm and coming from every direction. _I got this._

"I mean," the American continued, "you summoned me, sure, but I'm kinda wondering what, exactly, you were expecting." Harry could feel that the American was holding Harry's body differently, but he couldn't have said how without looking in a mirror. "I'll take a wild guess, though, and say you wanted to order me around."

All Harry wanted to do was get out of the graveyard and back to Hogwarts. Surely someone had noticed something was wrong, by now. Harry's head moved to the side, without him meaning to, and he caught a glimpse of Cedric sprawled on the grass.

The thing possessing him seemed to go very cold and stiff, all of the sudden.

"You must obey me," Voldemort said. "I summoned you!"

"Hoo boy, that is _so_ not how this works," said the thing possessing Harry, and ran.

Harry took a moment to realize what was happening. By that time, there were spells flying past, but the thing dodged all of them. He dived towards Cedric, hooked an arm around the dead boy, and held his hand out.

The Portkey came flying towards them-

And then Harry crashed onto the grass of the Quidditch Field and he could feel all his limbs properly again, he hadn't even noticed that, he was gasping as the collision knocked his breath out, and he could move when he wanted to-

"Harry!" Dumbledore's face entered his field of vision.

"He's back," Harry gasped out. "Voldemort's back."

* * *

When Harry woke up in the Hospital wing the day after, he was surrounded by people.

The quiet conversation he'd heard cut off quickly as soon as he sat up. Harry was surprised by the amount of people there.

"Remus? What are you-"

"Sirius wanted to come, but Dumbledore didn't want to risk it," Remus said, "so here I am, with strict instructions to tell him everything." He smiled, but it looked forced. "How are you feeling?"

"Er, fine?" Harry glanced around. Ron and Hermione were there, too, and so was Dumbledore - along with someone he didn't recognize. "What's this about?"

"Well I dunno if you remember, mate," Ron said, "but you told us last night you'd gotten _possessed,_ that's not something _small._ "

"Oh."

"This is a friend of mine, Harry," Dumbledore said, gesturing to the robed stranger. "She works in the Department of Mysteries."

"Hello," Harry said. She didn't reply.

"She will be able to ascertain whether or not you're still possessed," Dumbledore explained.

"Is that a possibility? I mean - I'm _me_ again."

"This thing could have only been allowing you control as a cover," the woman said, drawing her wand and approaching Harry's bed. Hermione scooted out of the way, to give her room. "I'm going to need you to tell me everything you remember about it."

* * *

When she left, leaving Harry feeling very awkward, Remus said, "That was a very stupid thing to do, Harry."

"What?"

"It was exceptionally dangerous to _allow_ a creature you knew nothing about into your mind."

"Hang on, he said-"

"He might have _lied,_ " Remus said, and Harry realized Remus was actually upset with him. "Didn't you think? This is just like what happened with Ginny."

"It is _not,_ Riddle didn't _ask permission,_ " Harry said, "and besides, if he was so dangerous why'd he take me back here with - with Cedric's body like I wanted?"

"Anything that depends on another for physical form cannot be trusted," Dumbledore said gravely, "whether or not they ask for permission. A liar may tell truths in order to gain someone's trust."

Harry couldn't argue with that. "He didn't hurt me," he said, in an attempt to have the last word.

"He did," Remus said, looking tired. "Your scar started bleeding, while you were asleep."

Harry's hand automatically went to his forehead. It didn't hurt, when he pressed on it.

"It was real freaky, mate," Ron said, and Hermione nodded in agreement. "You were just lying there, and then Hermione saw you were bleeding, and we couldn't figure out what had happened at first."

Harry lowered his hand slowly. "Well, I promise not to do it again."

"That's not funny," Remus said sharply, and Hermione looked tempted to agree.

"You're really lucky he just left like that," Hermione said. "This entire situation is very odd."

"But he's gone," Harry said. "So, not a problem anymore."

* * *

Harry didn't have any reason to doubt that he wasn't possessed any more - nothing out of the ordinary happened all summer, except him getting snubbed by everybody and then attacked by Dementors and nearly expelled. Quite honestly he barely ever thought about it, what with Dumbledore ignoring him and _Umbridge_ teaching Defense.

And then he got detention.

Harry stared at the scratches on the back of his hand, his own handwriting red and bleeding, and then-

"Is there a problem?" Umbridge asked sweetly.

"No," Harry felt himself say, and then the thing in his body dropped the quill and stood up.

"Mr. Potter, sit back down."

"I don't think so," the thing said, in a perfect imitation of Harry's accent.

"Excuse me!"

"What are you going to do?" Harry felt himself straighten defensively, while he tried to take back some semblance of control. "Whatever this is, it seems pretty illegal. Do you want to take this up with Dumbledore and explain that I refused to stick around for your torture sessions?"

"The Minister will-" Umbridge hissed, but the creature cut her off.

"I'm sure." Before Umbridge could say a thing, Harry's body was being turned away, his bag scooped up and whoever was controlling his body was striding purposefully through the hallways, somehow unerringly directing the two of them back to Gryffindor tower.

* * *

The creature borrowed Colin Creevey's camera on the way up to the dorms and was fiddling with it when Ron and Hermione came in.

"I have a _lot_ of questions," Ron began.

"Ask someone else," the thing said. It got very quiet. He looked up to see Ron and Hermione both pointing their wands at him." _Wow,_ okay, what a welcome."

"I thought you were gone." Hermione's wand hand didn't waver in the slightest.

"Oh, please."

"What are you doing?" Ron demanded.

"At the moment I'm trying to take a picture of this to blackmail whoever that pink lady was, you're welcome to help, this camera is impossible to use with just one hand." The thing flashed Harry's injured hand at the two of them. "You don't know anything about a quill that writes in blood, do you? I've never heard of it, but hey, lots of stuff is happening that I hadn't really anticipated."

" _Shut up for three seconds,_ " Ron demanded. "What are you talking about? Umbridge did that?"

"If you're talking about the pink lady, then yeah."

"Why should we believe you?" Hermione questioned.

"What exactly do I gain by lying, here?"

"How are we supposed to trust you? We don't even know your name!" Ron said heatedly.

"If you wanted to ask for my name, there are better ways to do it than at..." the thing narrowed his eyes at Ron's wand. "Wandpoint." He managed to make that one word sound simultaneously disdainful and confusing.

Hermione took a step closer, wand still aimed at his heart. "What is your name?" She asked, still scowling at him.

The thing grinned brightly at her. "Let's say you can call me Gabriel, for now," he said. "I'm assuming you're not going to give me your names in return? Or help me with this?" He tossed the camera carelessly onto the nearest bed.

"I want to talk to Harry," Hermione said.

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. "Suit yourself."

* * *

"So," Dumbledore said, "this Gabriel is, in fact, still around."

"Yeah," Harry said. "Unfortunately. Er, sir."

"I thought it was a _sure thing_ that he was gone!" Hermione seemed rather irritated.

"It is entirely possible for spells to fail," Dumbledore said, far calmer than Harry felt. He appeared to be examining his bookcase. "However, it is surprising that they did so in this case. The Department of Mysteries is very good at what they do."

"Which is what, exactly?" Gabriel asked, crossing his legs. Ron jumped. Hermione's hand went to her wand. "'Cause the name alone is making me interested."

Dumbledore turned around.

"I assume you're Gabriel," he said evenly, gaze betraying nothing.

"Aw, what gave it away?" Gabriel asked brightly. "Lemme guess, this is the part where you threaten me into leaving."

"I have a feeling that won't work."

"Well, score one for your intuition, then."

"Professor-" Hermione said, somewhat desperately, eyes still on Gabriel. Dumbledore came closer, and sat down at his desk, opposite Gabriel.

"What do you want with Harry Potter?" He asked.

Gabriel snorted. "With _him?_ Buddy, you're assuming I chose him on purpose. The kid just happened to be the best choice out of everyone there."

"Of course," Dumbledore said, in a way that meant _yeah fucking right._ "And you happened to like him so much that you stayed."

"What's so bad about that? I'm not _doing_ anything. In case you didn't notice, I only popped up again because the kid was literally getting tortured. _You're welcome._ "

"Pardon me if I find it suspicious that you're willing to leave him, for the most part, alone; and for so little in return."

Gabriel grinned like a cat who'd just seen that its prey had nowhere else to run. "If you're gonna ask, ask plainly, dude."

"What do you get out of this?" It was like they'd both forgotten Ron and Hermione were there. The two students were watching the conversation warily.

"Nothing big," Gabriel said leisurely.

Dumbledore's eyebrows furrowed, which was really the closest he'd ever get to a scowl.

"I'm _serious,_ " Gabriel said. "Look, any old... _acquaintances_ of mine who might be keeping an eye out for me, they see the kid, they see a soul, they assume nobody else is in here. It's not like I'm _doing_ anything to him just by being here."

"That remains to be seen," Dumbledore said.

"Oh, come on! What possible reason do you have to be so damn suspicious?"

 _Plenty,_ Harry thought, thinking of Ginny and the diary.

* * *

"I don't think it's safe," Hermione said, "just letting him stay... _in_ you and not doing anything."

"We can't really do much," Harry said. "I mean, he was right, even the Department of Mysteries lady had no idea he was there."

"Harry!"

"Hey, it's _me_ he's possessing, I'm as scared as you are," Harry said, being unusually honest. "I just...he _didn't_ do anything. I guess I believe him when he says he won't."

Hermione eyed him skeptically. "You realize he could be influencing you to believe him."

"Hermione, I guarantee you, whatever you've thought of, I have to. He's _in my head._ Hell, he's giving me half the suggestions."

"That's not reassuring!"

"Well, if he tries something, you can Petrify me and he won't be able to do anything."

* * *

 **(Bit of a skip here to Deathly Hallows, btw, the bits in between are up to your imagination because I never wrote them)**

* * *

Harry closed the door behind Hermione, still breathing hard from what he'd seen. He dropped his toothbrush absentmindedly on the counter.

"So," his reflection said, in an American accent, and Harry jumped. "Is this gonna be a thing? Because lying to your friends shouldn't be a thing."

"What the _hell,_ " Harry said.

His reflection rolled its eyes. "If you'd _prefer_ I could just talk straight into your head, but I get the feeling it wouldn't be well received."

Okay. Gabriel was using mirrors to talk to him now. This was fine.

"It's none of your business," Harry said, gripping the sides of the sink tightly and looking down. At the edge of his vision, his reflection continued to casually stand.

"Well, sure, except _I'm in here too,_ " Gabriel snapped, leaning forward. "The hell do you think I'm doing, just sitting tight? No! I saw that too, dumbass."

Harry's head snapped up. It was incredibly surreal for the expression reflected to be disdain instead of surprise. "What? How?"

"Like I know?" Gabriel shrugged exaggeratedly. "The hell are you doing with your face?"

Harry realized he'd been unconsciously trying to mimic Gabriel's expression. "Nothing," he said hastily. "Look, I can't tell Hermione about this stuff. She'll just yell at me about 'letting Voldemort into my head' or whatever."

"And keeping it secret is gonna help?" Gabriel scoffed. "Not that she's _right_ or anything, I'm just sayin'."

"Since when are _you_ the voice of reason?"

"I know, right? The irony of this is great. I think I could get used to it."

Harry resisted the temptation to bang his head on the nearest wall and instead turned his back on the mirror, crossing his arms.

"Aw, don't sulk," Gabriel said.

"I'm not _sulking,_ I just don't want to talk to you." Harry stared at the wall. "What's with you doing this, anyway?"

"By which you mean...?"

"You talk to me for about a minute at a time, and it's always to make fun of me."

"Hey, I've gotta get my kicks somehow. It's not like I've got a TV in here. Hell, a comic book would do at this point," Gabriel complained. "Besides, I think making fun of you's a reasonable price for the kind'a things I've helped with. Or are you conveniently forgetting all the nice stuff I did?"

"Your 'nice stuff' list only has like three things on it," Harry replied, turning around to give Gabriel an incredulous look.

"Yeah, and those three things are, let me think, oh yeah!" Gabriel ticked them off on his fingers. "Saving your godfather, helping you curse Snape, helping you with Umbridge-"

"I _get it._ I know what happened."

"Al _right_ then," Gabriel sniffed. "It's not _too_ much to ask for a little appreciation once in a while. But you wanna keep me your deus ex machina, fine, don't complain when I don't show for the little stuff."

The mirror appeared to warp slightly. Harry blinked. His reflection blinked, too.

"Always has to have the last word," he grumbled.

* * *

"So what do we do with it?" They had set up the tent, set up wards, and they were still standing around a table with the locket gingerly placed on top of it with no idea what to do.

"If we had the sword-" Ron began. He was sitting down, arm in a sling Hermione had conjured.

" _If,_ " Hermione interrupted. "And _if_ we had something else that could damage it conveniently at hand, yes, we could destroy it, but we don't."

"So what _do_ we do?"

Hermione hesitated. "I don't know," she said. "We've got to keep it safe, obviously...Harry?"

Harry, on some instinct, closed his eyes. Gabriel opened them.

Ron and Hermione both stiffened imperceptibly. The flash of blue was always a dead giveaway.

For a moment, nobody spoke.

"I'm gonna regret this," Gabriel sighed, "but what the hell."

He reached forward, too quickly for either of them to stop him, and grabbed the Horcrux.

Both Hermione and Ron had to turn away from the bright flash, throwing their arms up to shield their faces. When it receded, Gabriel staggered and then caught himself on the edge of the table.

"Harry-" Hermione made an aborted movement towards him.

"Yeah," Harry said breathlessly. "I - that was _surreal._ "

"You're telling me, mate," Ron said, staring at the locket in the middle of the table, dented and crumpled and definitely destroyed. "What the hell _is_ Gabriel?"

* * *

None of them had intended, or even so much as expected, to run across a scruffy man wearing a dirty trench coat in the middle of a forest. Life was just weird like that.

"Bloody _hell,_ " Ron yelped, hand jumping to his wand.

Hermione already had hers out. "Who are you?" She demanded.

Harry's eyes flashed blue. " _Castiel?_ " Gabriel said incredulously.

Castiel stared back, frozen in the middle of hurriedly backing away. " _Gabriel?_ "

" _What,_ " Ron said.

"How the hell are you _here?_ " Gabriel demanded.

"I don't know," Castiel admitted awkwardly, with an uncomfortable pause between the words. "I - where is this, exactly?"

"Gabriel, who is this," Hermione hissed out of the corner of her mouth. Gabriel ignored her, pushing her wand hand down in lieu of an answer.

"Where _is_ this?" He asked her, hand still on her wrist. "I haven't been paying attention, which I'm sure you're _thrilled_ by."

"Let me go," Hermione snapped. Gabriel took his hand back.

"Well?"

"It's the Forest of Dean. _Who is this?_ "

"The Forest of Dean," Castiel muttered to himself. "Where is that?"

"England, roundabouts, _how do you not know where you are, Castiel?_ " Gabriel demanded. Castiel was still staring at Gabriel like the latter was a 15-car pileup and seemed too distracted to answer.

"Would someone please explain what's going on!" Ron shouted.

"Just to be petty, no," Gabriel said shortly, grabbing the lapel of Castiel's coat. " _You_ are coming back to the tent with me, I don't know what the hell happened to keeping _clean_ but obviously you've been a little busy-" He was already striding away, Castiel stumbling in his wake. Ron and Hermione stared at each other for a few moments before hurrying to follow.

* * *

Castiel looked even worse, in the light of the tent. The dimness of the forest hadn't made it obvious that he wasn't just scruffy, but unshaven and quite possibly unwashed. The trench coat barely bore mentioning.

Gabriel didn't appear to have stopped talking. "I don't even _want_ to know how you managed to not notice all this dirt-"

"Hey!" Hermione shouted, managing to cut him off. Gabriel looked over at her sharply. "Would you stop for three seconds and _tell us who this person is?_ "

Gabriel hesitated.

Castiel took the opening. "Brother, what happened to _you?_ " He asked, making as if to put a hand on Gabriel's shoulder and appearing to change his mind at the last moment.

" _Brother?_ " Ron repeated incredulously.

"Never mind that-" Gabriel said loudly.

Hermione poked her wand sharply forward, and a piercing whistle sounded. Ron winced, raising his hands to cover his ears. Castiel and Gabriel looked at her.

"All of you, _sit down,_ " she said, and pointed at Castiel. " _You_ are going to explain what you're doing here, and _you-_ " She rounded on Gabriel. "I want to talk to Harry."

"Suit your damn self," Gabriel snapped, and Harry staggered with the force with which Gabriel receded.

"Are you all right?" Hermione questioned.

"I'm fine," Harry said. Castiel was staring at him with a penetrative stare that reminded him of Dumbledore.

"You're Gabriel's vessel," he said slowly.

"I'm my own person too, thanks," Harry said, leaning away slightly.

"How the hell are you Gabriel's _brother?_ " Ron asked, stomping to try and get mud off his shoes.

Castiel tilted his head, turning to face Ron. "Is it impossible for one to have family?"

"Yeah, but he's..." Words failed Ron.

"Brother or no," Hermione broke in, "What did you mean, when you asked Gabriel what happened to him?"

Castiel glanced at Harry. "He did not exactly...look like himself."

"Doesn't he look like me?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"No," Castiel replied. "Not the way we see each other."

"Well, this is all very properly confusing," Ron said loudly.

"I didn't mean it to be."

Hermione cleared her throat. "Maybe you could let us have a private conversation for a minute?" She asked pointedly. "There's a bathroom in the back."

Castiel looked down at himself, as if suddenly remembering the state of himself. And his clothes. "Ah," he said. "Of course."

All three of them waited until Castiel was out of sight, and then they all started talking at once.

"Another one-" Ron hissed.

"I don't think-" Hermione began.

"I didn't know Gabriel had a brother," Harry said.

They all subsided awkwardly, and then Hermione said, "Well, him being Gabriel's brother isn't exactly a glowing recommendation of trustworthiness."

"And we don't know who he's possessing, anyway," Ron said. "I'd like a talk with whoever else is in there before we decide anything."

"Decide _what?_ " Harry said. "It's not like he's likely to go to _Voldemort_ and spill all our secrets."

"Harry, I hate to say it, but you're hardly unbiased," Hermione said. "You've - well, I think Gabriel affects you even if he's not trying. And just because this Castiel isn't in league with Voldemort doesn't mean he's trustworthy."

"Hey-"

"Mate, Hermione's right," Ron said. "We don't know a thing about him-"

"Oh come on, Ron-"

"Except that he looks like he's been wandering around on his own for weeks," Ron continued loudly. "And that he somehow managed to run across us-"

"What, you think he did it on purpose?" Harry scoffed. "I saw his face as well as you did when he realized who Gabriel was. And he definitely wouldn't have tried to find us because of any of _us_ three. _If_ he did."

"All I'm saying is that we should be careful," Hermione said. "We've got enough on our plate already."

Harry looked down, unable to disagree. Gabriel looked up with a distinctly sour twist to his mouth.

"And if Castiel doesn't live up to your expectations?" He asked levelly.

"It's not like we're obligated to keep him around," Ron retorted. "We've kind of got a _Dark Lord_ to get rid of, in case you hadn't noticed."

Gabriel's lip curled. "And I'm sure this is how you treat _your_ family."

"Leave my family out of this," Ron snapped. "What are you going to do if we decide we don't want him around?"

"I'll go with him is what I'll do," Gabriel shot back.

"You can't do that," Hermione said, one hand on her wand.

Gabriel leaned closer until she had to lean back to maintain personal space. "Fucking watch me," Gabriel said, and there was a fluttering noise and a hand on his shoulder and Castiel was pulling him back.

"This is entirely unnecessary," he said.

Gabriel whirled on him. "The _hell_ it isn't-"

"You cannot threaten to steal away in their friend's body merely to assure my presence," Castiel informed him, voice still gravelly but the rest of him far neater (and cleaner) than he had been five minutes ago. There was, however, still something fidgety and restless about him.

Gabriel snorted so hard the force of it might have made him bend in half. "You expect me to find you wandering around like _that_ in the middle of a forest and not be worried! I've seen the kind of crap you get up to-"

"I was under the impression you had removed yourself as far as possible from that fight," Castiel said, dry as a desert.

"Don't you _dare,_ " Gabriel warned, stabbing a finger at him.

* * *

 **That scene ends a little abruptly because I never finished it, so just assume they come to some kind of agreement and Castiel ends up staying with them.**

* * *

One night, Hermione woke late, for no reason that she could immediately figure out. She lay in bed for a few moments, before she realized that there were quiet voices coming from the direction of the tent flap. She sat bolt upright in the bunk, barely avoiding hitting her hand, and was half out of bed with her wand in her hand before she recognized Castiel and Harry staring back at her in the darkness.

"Go back to sleep," Gabriel said - and it was Gabriel, that wasn't Harry's accent. "It's only us."

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked quietly, remembering that Ron was still asleep in the bunk above her. She stood up and crept closer, managing to avoid the table.

"Only talking," Castiel said.

"Nothing that's any of _your_ business," Gabriel added.

Hermione sat herself stubbornly in the nearest chair. "I'm not tired," she said stiffly.

Gabriel scoffed. Castiel murmured something in a growling, guttural language that she didn't understand. Gabriel turned away from her, replying in kind.

Hermione drifted off at some point, not understanding a word of what they were saying, and woke later with a crick in her neck and Harry bending over her curiously.

"What are you sleeping in a chair for?" He asked.

"No reason," Hermione said grumpily. "Where's Castiel?"

It turned out that Harry didn't know.

* * *

 **Another skip here  
**

* * *

Harry coughed out a very small scrap of bluish white light.

It was barely bright enough to attract attention, but he heard Ron shout somewhere in the distance. He was too busy staggering and trying to regain his balance to see what Castiel was doing, bent over the man he'd brought along (who was either unconscious or worse).

"Harry!" Hermione's voice was very loud in his ear, but her hand on his shoulder was a steadying presence.

Someone was laughing hoarsely. It turned out to be the guy Castiel had brought with him, rolling over with a groan that didn't put a dent in his humorous attitude.

" _Hell_ yeah," he said, letting Castiel pull him to his feet. "You _really_ came through, bro!"

"Gabriel?" Harry asked disbelievingly, and the man turned to him with a bright smile and the barest trace of unsteadiness in his limbs.

"You know it!" He slung an arm over Harry's shoulders, dislodging Hermione. "No offense, but this is _much_ better than sharing headspace with somebody. New and improved! Well, not _new_ per se-"

"Right," Harry said. "Um. This is you?"

"As close as you're ever going to get to seeing the real me," Gabriel said, and squeezed Harry a little uncomfortably close before letting go. All of him seemed to be very pale - pale skin, pale blond hair, pale eyes. His clothes were a stark black, in contrast and in the dim light of a forest in the evening.

Harry thought there might be a very slight edge of the otherworldly to him, but maybe it was just because he knew Gabriel.

* * *

"Enough!" Gabriel shouted, and he planted his feet firmly in the ground, and _something_ leaped up around him.

The Snatchers collapsed like they'd been Stupefied, something white like lightning crackling along the ground towards them from Gabriel. Harry looked incredulously at Gabriel in time to see Gabriel waver.

Castiel was at his side in a second, just in time to keep Gabriel from hitting the ground. He looked very different, limp and only standing because Castiel was holding him up. Castiel didn't stick around long enough for Harry to see if Gabriel was even still conscious.

"What the hell was _that?_ " Ron demanded. "I am getting _really sick_ of having to ask that question all the time!"

"Back to the tent," Hermione said.

"We'd better take their wands first," Harry pointed out. Hermione glanced at Ron, then nodded at him.

* * *

They slipped into the tent quietly. It was dark inside, but Hermione turned on the lights with a flick of her wand, revealing Castiel hunched over a vaguely human-shaped lump in one of the bunks."

Castiel turned to look at them, pinning them in place with only his gaze. There was something entirely inhuman about him, in that moment, as he stared them down. Harry felt a shiver go down his back.

Then the moment passed, and Castiel looked away again, back at the lump that was undoubtedly Gabriel.

"What's wrong with him?" Ron asked.

Castiel didn't answer. After a very long time, in which the three of them risked moving further into the tent (carefully, as if the slightest movement might set something off) he asked, "How many times has he done this?"

"Pardon?" Hermione questioned.

"How many times," Castiel repeated, "has he done something like that for you?"

"You mean to help?" Hermione glanced at Harry. "Well...he broke the locket Horcrux."

"Snape," Ron said. "He definitely did something to Snape."

"Sirius," Harry added, without clarifying. It hadn't _seemed_ like magic at the time, but time had stretched itself inordinately far to allow him to reach Sirius before the curse hit. He wasn't sure he could explain it.

Castiel looked down, mouth tightening into a stiff line. He looked upset.

"He didn't normally faint," Hermione said.

"I have no doubt that he _did,_ " Castiel retorted, suddenly sharp. "You were most likely too glad that your friend was in control again to wonder why he had vanished so quickly."

Hermione shut her mouth abruptly. Harry could see the gears of her brain spinning, pulling up memories and no doubt trying to calculate the exact time it had taken after every instance they'd named for Gabriel to vanish and Harry to surface. He already knew the answers were all a matter of seconds. Maybe not even that long.

"So," Harry said carefully, "is it - is he hurt, or something?"

Castiel dragged a hand down his face. "He is a fool, mostly," he said. "And I - I cannot hope to explain except in the ridiculous way he explained it to me."

Harry sat down. He had a feeling it was going to be a long story.

"He compared himself to _Kronos,_ " Castiel said, sounding very irritated about it.

"From Greek mythology?" Hermione immediately questioned. Harry was hardly surprised she'd recognized the name.

"I assume so." Castiel sighed. "They're nothing alike. I assume it was for the parallel in their stories, but-" He visibly restrained himself.

"So?" Ron prompted.

It might have been Harry's imagination, but he thought the lights dimmed slightly. Castiel leaned against the railing of the bunk.

"Kronos was a Titan," he said. "He was cruel to his family and murdered his own father for the power that he commanded, so his youngest son was hidden away, because there was a prophecy that said that Kronos could only be defeated by his own son. The child, with the help of his mother and Kronos's mother, tricked Kronos into freeing his other children, and began a war against the Titans to overthrow their father.

"I don't know why he bothered telling me that part, since it has nothing to do with him. In any case...Kronos was too powerful to be killed easily, not by any tools his children possessed, so they scattered his essence so far and wide that he could never reform."

It took a moment for Harry to realize Castiel was done. "You're saying someone tried to _kill_ him? Who?"

Castiel looked away. "Some of our brothers are..." He didn't finish.

Harry didn't like what he was implying. A glance at Ron and Hermione showed they were both looking back at him with huge eyes.

None of them spoke, for a long moment.

"Sorry," Ron muttered, eventually. "We didn't know."

"I wouldn't expect you to," Castiel replied, eyes on Gabriel. "Pride is one of the only things about him still perfectly intact."

Hermione cleared her throat. "You say he was...scattered," she said, hesitantly. "What does it mean, then? That he used...whatever power you two have to help us?"

"It means perhaps he saw something in you he thought worthy of spending what little power he had on," Castiel said, quietly. "Perhaps he was paying a debt." His eyes shifted to Harry. "You gave him a place to hide, and rest, and try and recover. However reluctantly."

More like _incredibly_ reluctantly, Harry thought.

"That isn't really what I asked," Hermione dared to say.

Castiel looked at her for a very long moment. "If Gabriel overstepped his boundaries," he said, "if he tried to use more power than he had - he might - fall apart. Again."

"Oh," Hermione said.

"I can hope that whoever put him back together is still watching," Castiel said, with a sour curl to his mouth, "but I doubt it."

"Whoever - what?" Harry asked blankly.

"Gabriel was scattered," Castiel said severely. "I thought him dead, and he might as well have been. Your Dark Lord had a spell he should not have been able to find, and performed it with ingredients he should not have been able to obtain and managed to put enough power behind it that he could scrape together enough of my brother to allow him to act like himself. _None_ of that is a coincidence. _Someone_ arranged things to bring him back."

Harry stared. Castiel sighed, and it seemed like he wilted, becoming smaller than he was a moment ago.

"Some of him, at any rate," Castiel murmured.

Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione, and privately wondered what _he'd_ do if either of them ever ended up like Gabriel. The enormity of Castiel's situation hit him like a punch to the stomach.

"He'll be alright," Harry said, somewhat anxiously. "Won't he?"

"We shall see," Castiel said, not sounding particularly hopeful. "If he has recovered before, he should this time."

* * *

Harry rolled over in the middle of the night, awake for no reason he could immediately discern. The bunk above his creaked, and he abruptly remembered who he was sleeping underneath.

He practically held his breath for a moment, but neither Castiel nor Gabriel (if he was even awake yet) appeared to be bothered. Castiel, however, spoke after a moment in a very quiet voice.

"It would be singularly rude of you to die after I've only just found you again, Gabriel."

Harry stayed still, staring into the darkness of the tent, for some time. Castiel did not speak again.

* * *

 **That's it? lmao I don't know how it ends, I never finished writing it out. I ad-libbed a lot of this because I lost track of the notebook/changed my mind, but it's basically what I started with.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Small continuation of the drabbly AU from chapter eight! This wouldn't leave me alone. It's a little disjointed, but mostly I wanted to address how the events of s5 and s6 might play out with Gabriel!Harry.  
**

 **I feel like Harry's got a lot to deal with - those two identities don't mesh together very well. At this point, Ron and Hermione (and the Weasleys) know about Gabriel, if not his other various identities, and what Gabriel is, but he still doesn't tell them much about what's going on over in America even if he knows about what's happening.  
**

 **Just so you know, this takes place at an unspecified point after the series ends (assuming this takes place in the original HP timeline, it would've been a while later that the whole Apocalypse thing started).**

 **Also, please excuse me if I switch tenses for no reason, I'm doing my best :(**

* * *

Harry doesn't go downstairs expecting to see the angel in his _kitchen_ , but he'd noticed Castiel the moment his brother arrived.

"Mind telling me what you're doing here?" He asks mildly, mug still mostly full of tea that he's keeping warm out of pure willpower at this point.

Castiel looks at him, tilts his head, squints.

Yeah, yeah. This is what an archangel looks like - messy hair, glasses that are no longer prescription lenses (not that he thinks they were in the first place, his vision had gotten a _lot_ better as soon as he'd remembered), pajamas that are half handmedown from Mrs. Weasley via a furiously embarrassed Ron and half bought at a secondhand store (they always had better, comfier stuff). A mug of tea and an expression that says _Well?_ and a presence that Gabriel makes sure Castiel doesn't feel until Gabriel's in the room.

"I need your help," Castiel says.

Well, shit. Gabriel had been hoping it was only a scholarly kind of need that had brought Castiel looking for a ''long-dead'' archangel, and not the world-is-ending-please-smite-our-enemies kind of need.

"Yeah, everyone says that," Gabriel says. "Sit down. You want tea?"

Castiel's confusion is palpable, even though Gabriel hasn't reconnected to angel radio and has no desire to. He sits. He shakes his head.

"Suit yourself," Gabriel says. He takes the seat opposite Castiel, props his feet up on one of the empty chairs, and takes a long sip from his own mug. He reflects that he may have possibly left the teabag in too long, but hey, you can't blame a guy for getting distracted.

Castiel's still looking at him like he can't figure out what Gabriel's angle is.

"So," Gabriel says. "Lemme guess. You want to recruit me because you think it'll give you a better chance with my dear older brothers."

"Yes," Castiel says, head still tilted like a different angle of sight will reveal all of Gabriel's secrets.

"At least you're honest," Gabriel mutters into his tea. "So who else knows where I am?"

"No one."

"Excuse me?"

"I didn't tell anyone," Castiel says. "There are only so many I can trust, and I...didn't want to get their hopes up." He looks at Gabriel warily now. "And you have been in...very deep hiding. I believed you were dead. So did many others. I thought it might be...inappropriate to broadcast my findings."

"You thought right," Gabriel says, and puts his mug down. Castiel is...something else. He looks closer, past the general dishevelment, past the barest sputterings of power. "Who _can_ you trust, Castiel?"

"Hopefully," Castiel, the stupid hopeful seraph says, "you."

For a moment, they just stare at each other.

"Michael and Lucifer cannot be allowed to continue," Castiel bursts out. "They'll _ruin_ this planet in pursuit of their own agenda. Humanity - _everything_ here is worth more than that, but they can't see past their own pride to understand!"

"You're not telling me anything I don't already know," Gabriel says tightly. He gets up to get more tea, just so he won't have to look at Castiel.

"So you'll help?" Someone help him, he can _feel_ how eager Castiel is to hear a 'yes'.

"That's not what I said," Gabriel replies, facing the window.

There's a very pregnant pause.

"I don't understand," Castiel said.

"Why do you think I _left?_ " Gabriel snaps, turning to Castiel. "You come here and ask me to jump back into _that_ argument and expect a _yes?_ You think I _enjoyed_ dealing with Michael and Lucifer up close, back then?"

"If they're not stopped, it will only get worse!"

"What are you asking me to do?" Gabriel retorted. "Be very clear, Castiel. You're not asking me to join. You're not asking for help. You're asking me to kill one or both of them." Gabriel leans closer, unfolding his essence from inside his vessel, and he can't help but be angrily vindicated by the way Castiel leans away. " _No._ "

"What _will_ you do, then?" Castiel asks, through gritted teeth.

"I am not obligated to do _anything_ for you," Gabriel snaps. "If I show up helping you, guess whose probably homicidally-inclined brothers start gunning for _me?_ " He jerks a thumb at himself. "I've done perfectly well for myself by _staying out of it._ "

"For _yourself,_ " Castiel emphasizes. "What about everyone else?"

Gabriel shrugs, but the effect his probably somewhat ruined by the stare he's leveling at Castiel. "That's the question, isn't it?"

Castiel looks somewhat taken aback.

"I don't understand," he says, again.

Gabriel sighs. Takes a piece of paper out of thin air.

"If you tell anyone I gave this to you," he says, "...well, just don't." Castiel's imagination will be worse than anything he comes up with.

Castiel's puzzled expression gets more puzzled when he unfolds it. "This is an address," he says.

"Wow, really? I didn't know," Gabriel says sarcastically. "I happen to know a guy there who knows a spell or two that would be handy."

"A spell won't-" Castiel began in frustration.

"The Cage is still there," Gabriel says, and Castiel shuts his mouth. They both know what Gabriel means - or Castiel can guess, at least.

Castiel folds up the piece of paper and puts it into his pocket. "I assume," he beings, "that whoever is at this address - I should not tell them you told me where to find them?"

"You got _that_ right," Harry says.

"But, Gabriel-"

"Gabriel who?" Harry leans up against the counter and picks up his mug of tea again. "Didn't you listen to all those 'many others' you said you talked to? Gabriel's dead. He can't help you, and you definitely can't be imposing on him right now. And if you told anyone you'd found him, well, he might be tempted to do something about that. If he weren't, you know, impossible to find."

Castiel understands. Of course he does. "I see," he says, delicately, and then, "thank you."

"Yeah, yeah." Harry waves the mug around dismissively. "Get outta my kitchen."

* * *

 **Skippy skip skip to some vague scene later on, I didn't plan this all out I just thought of separate scenes**

* * *

 _The last thing I need is for this situation to get any worse,_ Gabriel thinks. Given that he's currently facing off with Lucifer while Castiel struggles with the holy fire barrier, he doesn't see how it _can._

So of course Ron and Hermione choose that moment to burst in.

Harry's glad to see them, for one wild second, and then Gabriel thinks, _shit, Lucifer's going to kill them._

Lucifer only has time to look at them but Gabriel can _see_ his immediate disdain for Gabriel's two human friends, so Gabriel does the stupidest thing he can think of.

"Don't you dare!" He physically crashes into his brother and manages to take Lucifer by surprise for a second. Lucifer roughly shoves him away, face curling in a sneer.

"Harry!"

"Gabriel, don't-"

"Pathetic," Lucifer snarls, grabbing Gabriel before he can get away. "You'd turn on _me?_ For what? _Humans?_ "

"Well, I happen to like those two," Gabriel says. Only Castiel sees the way the two of them are struggling, two forces locked in a stalemate, Lucifer's powers pushing towards the two humans with dark intent. Neither of them pay any attention to the wands trained on them. "And, y'know, the rest of the species in general. They've invented some cool things, I don't know if you've taken the time to look. Chocolate, for one-"

Lucifer stood abruptly, yanking Gabriel up with him. "Enough of this," he said, suddenly soft and persuasive. "Earth may have its pleasures, but what is it worth, really?" He doesn't flinch when a spell hits the floor next to his feet, just looks at Hermione with deadly intent.

Gabriel wrenches Lucifer's hand the wrong way, but he can hear a shout (he didn't redirect all of it, just the worst parts) while the recoil shivers its way through him. Lucifer's Grace is freezing cold. It's not a pleasant feeling.

"They're broken," Lucifer murmurs, twisting his hand out of Gabriel's grip and looking at him in curiosity. "If they aren't now, they will be. I'm only sparing you-"

"Fucking hell, _shut up,_ you sound like a megalomaniac," Gabriel says. He's got his sword out and no intention of using it, and his only allies are either more of a liability or trapped.

"You know I'm right," Lucifer says, reproachfully.

"I know you _think_ you're right," Gabriel says. Lucifer huffs indignantly. Castiel's drawing something on the floor, and Gabriel thinks fast to try and distract Lucifer from noticing. "You and Michael were so caught up in fighting your never bothered with anything down here. Who's got more experience with humans, huh?"

"Just because you've been...slumming it," Lucifer says, ignoring Gabriel's scoff, "doesn't mean you're right. They're _flawed._ "

"And yet," Gabriel says, half his attention on Ron and Hermione, still hovering in the doorway (here's hoping they _stay_ there), "they're still better than us."

He feels (rightfully) vindicated when pure shock flashes across Lucifer's face.

" _No,"_ Lucifer seethes. " _Them?_ You cannot be-"

"Serious?" Gabriel finishes, restraining himself from looking at whatever Castiel might be doing. "Oh, I am. They might be flawed, but at least they _try_ to do better. To _forgive_ each other."

He doesn't miss the tiniest pause, before Lucifer speaks.

"Brother," Lucifer says softly, "it doesn't have to be like this."

"Really?" Gabriel says. "I'm not the one picking a side, here. You don't want it to end like this, walk off the game board."

"Michael would never let me!" Lucifer takes a step closer. "You'd choose them over me?" He asks, sounding wounded. "Truly, Gabriel? When we could be in this together, like old times?"

 _Old times when you weren't an asshole?_ Gabriel keeps a cool facade over his face. "Yeah, that sounds like my brother," he murmurs, looking Lucifer in the eye. "Maybe if you didn't just try to kill my friends twice in a row, I'd've considered it. Oh wait, no I wouldn't have." Not when the rest of the world is at stake.

"It doesn't have to be like this," Lucifer says, and Gabriel wonders at the note of honest pleading. Now that his brother's up in his face, it's hard to gauge the lies. "Don't make me do this."

"Nobody makes _us_ do anything," Gabriel replies, shrugging and spreading his hands. _You've got a choice, Lucifer, please. For me. Make the right one._

Lucifer's expression is something approximating sadness.

He grabs Gabriel's wrist, twists it, and stabs Gabriel with his own blade.

Gabriel nearly bends double around the sudden pain in his stomach, too shocked to do anything else. There's shouting, Castiel's presence flaring up at the edge of his senses, Lucifer holding him up, standing calm and steady.

Gabriel looks up at his brother, _how could you do this to me, Lucifer-!_

"I admit," Lucifer says, cupping his face, and Gabriel grabs at his arm because it's _Lucifer, please, help me, why would you-_ "After Michael, you were always my favorite."

Something rips him away with the force of a banishing spell ( _Castiel_ ) and Gabriel collapses, bending around the sword still embedded in his abdomen. There are two souls headed toward him ( _Ron...Hermione..._ ) but Castiel gets there first ( _the holy fire...?_ ) and whisks him away.

* * *

 **Listen, I blame inukagome15, she's the one who started talking about listening to 'Control' while writing.**

* * *

"You can't just refuse to tell us where he is!" Hermione shouts.

Castiel looks completely unbothered by the wand poking his throat. He looks the opposite, really, if the opposite of 'bothered' is 'scowly'. "If he is disturbed, the spells I erected could break," he growls. "Given how you burst in earlier, I don't trust _either_ of you not to think yourselves capable of saving him and ignoring that warning."

"You said yourself you didn't have much power left," Ron protests, "we could-"

"Your human magic would be entirely ineffective."

"Cas," Sam breaks in, "c'mon. He's their friend."

"Who is currently threatening me because I did the only thing I could and they don't like the conditions," Castiel says waspishly. He pushes Hermione's hand down. "If you'd rather break those spells and have Gabriel get worse, that's hardly going to change my mind. I can't fix him, so keeping him in stasis is the best option."

"You don't know that we couldn't help," Ron objects.

"You don't _know_ what Gabriel _is_ well enough to help," Castiel snaps, and turns to stomp into the living room, where Dean is.

Sam casually inserts himself into the doorway, blocking Ron and Hermione from following.

"I'm sorry," he says sincerely. "But regardless of intent, I think Cas's right about regular magic not working on angels. It's never worked before."

"You don't have magic," Ron retorts, stung by the constant refusal.

"We have some kinds," Sam says, shrugging. "But if Cas says messing with whatever he's put up to protect Gabriel is a bad idea, then I believe him. He hasn't steered us wrong before." He pauses, and then adds, "For what it's worth, I'm sorry about this. He seemed like a good guy."

* * *

 **Ron and Hermione probably helped out, but this whole situation is a little beyond what they're used to..**

* * *

Castiel has been remade, killed by Lucifer and then - impossibly - resurrected.

The first place he goes, after ensuring that Dean makes it back to Sioux Falls in one piece, is to Heaven.

Gabriel can wait - he's in stasis, he's certainly not getting any _worse,_ even if he's also not getting any better - and then it's a constant repetition of that in Castiel's mind, it can wait, Heaven is more important, more immediate, and then he finds himself in another fight and it's getting steadily worse and he can't tell Dean but he _needs a break._

He did not watch his trail as carefully as he could have.

"This is what you've been hiding?" Castiel freezes when Raphael speaks, _how did he not notice-?_ "Your trump card?"

"Not a hidden weapon," Castiel replies, turning slowly. Raphael is already stalking slowly around to the other side of the bed. Castiel had hidden Gabriel in a hospital. There is no way into the room, none of the staff notice that it's there, and only Castiel (or another angel who knew how to navigate around the spells without disturbing them) could enter. "He's injured."

Raphael's eyes flick down to the wound that still gapes unpleasantly. Castiel had been attempting to figure out how best to heal it, but he hasn't gotten very far.

If this were a normal meeting of foes, they would have come to blows by now. With Gabriel present and essentially helpless, they are locked in an odd kind of stalemate.

"I can heal him," Raphael says, quietly. "I will take him to Heaven-"

"No," Castiel says.

"You cannot stop me."

"Gabriel would hate you for it," Castiel says, and Raphael actually pauses.

"It would be for his own good," Raphae argues. "Even he could see the logic in that."

"Gabriel has spent thousands of years hiding from you and Michael," Castiel replies. "I don't know why, but I'm sure he had his reasons."

Raphael scoffs. "He's a-"

"What are you planning on doing that you cannot do here?" Castiel cuts in. He's not in the mood to hear Gabriel be called names.

For a moment, they simply glare at each other.

Raphael lowers his hand to let it hover over Gabriel's wound, as if he's gauging the situation. His face reveals nothing. Castiel knows it's bad, but Raphael is - was? - the Healer; he would know better than a seraph exactly _how_ bad it is.

At least he hasn't brought any of the Rit Zien.

The foundation of Castiel's spell splinters. Gabriel heaves in a breath, back arching, eyes flying open. Raphael plants his hand firmly and doesn't let Gabriel wriggle away. Castiel isn't sure healing is supposed to be as painful as it looks.

Raphael moves to pull his hand away, when he's done, and Gabriel grabs his wrist.

"Shit," he gasps, "it's actually you."

Raphael seems unsure how to respond. Castiel's not sure if this is going to turn into a private archangel thing or not.

"...Yes." Raphael extricates himself from Gabriel's grip. "You would do well to return home. You'd heal much faster there." Raphael doesn't get past 'well' before something shutters over Gabriel's face and hides the moment of...something that had surfaced when he'd seen Raphael.

"So you can do, what, exactly?" Gabriel gingerly touched the now mostly-closed stab wound. There's something sour in his voice, an implication Castiel's missing.

Raphael presses his lips into a tight line and does not reply. Both of them glance at Castiel.

"Maybe turn off your ears, bro," Gabriel suggests. "I think Raph and I need to have a conversation."

Castiel obligingly turns around, dulling his vessel's auditory senses. He doesn't trust Raphael, but if the elder archangel attacks him Gabriel will probably at least _try_ to stop him.

* * *

Hermione shrieks when she sees Harry in the kitchen. "Merlin!"

"Yeah, I - _ow,_ " Harry says loudly, when Ron hugs him tightly. Ron hurriedly lets go, looking abashed.

"Sorry, mate-"

"It's fine, you mostly avoided the stab wound," Harry says dryly, taking a sip of the tea he'd miraculously managed not to spill.

"You're alright, though?" Ron asks anxiously.

"Mostly," Harry says, shrugging. "Nothing anyone can do but let me lie around and heal, though."

"Good," Hermione says fervently. "Your brother wouldn't tell us _anything._ "

"Which one?"

"Castiel," Ron supplies.

Gabriel shrugs again. "He's a good kid. 'Bout the only nice family member I've got left."

"Hey, you've got _us,_ " Ron says. "We wrote Mum, by the way, she'll be thrilled to have a chance to actually _do_ something. She's been pacing around worrying about you and I think she might insist that you get a hand on the clock."

"The clock? That one that's labelled Mortal Peril and stuff?"

"We were _worried,_ " Hermione said. "We didn't know where you were, or when you'd be back, or anything!"

He squints at the two of them. "...Why are you in my house if you didn't know I was going to be here?"

"Oh, mum said we should come by and keep things orderly, and stuff," Ron said. "She's been over once or twice, too, I'm not that great at cleaning spells. D'you know you've got a cabinet none of us could open?"

"There's a reason it can't be opened by anyone but me," Harry says, but he looks surprised. "That's, uh - tell your mum thanks, for me."

"She'd love it if you came over yourself," Ron says, and then hastily adds, "if you're up to it, I mean-"

"Maybe another day," Harry says, carefully avoiding saying anything about how he feels.

* * *

Ms. Weasley does insist on coming over, and then insists on Harry coming over, where Ginny pulls him away to her room and gently bullies him into showing her.

"If your mum comes up and sees us alone with me topless, she's going to assume a lot of things," Harry jokes.

Ginny doesn't budge. "You're not allowed to almost die without letting me find out whether or not we're dating again," she says, and reaches for the hem of his shirt.

Harry lets her pull it up. The scar is a neat, slightly raised, pale mark just under his ribs. Ginny does not touch it, just looks and then yanks his shirt back down.

"It looks too small," she says. "You're too big to die from something like that."

"I'm glad you have such faith in me," Harry says, and when Ron comes up a few minutes later they _definitely_ get caught in the middle of making out.

* * *

 **There's more, but I'm gonna end it there.**


End file.
